tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30827456018453143352024-03-22T03:11:57.664+05:30Lady GrouchalotYes,I do have a lot to grouch about thank you!lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.comBlogger219125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-38183541885428530402019-06-20T22:20:00.000+05:302019-06-20T22:20:11.551+05:30Suresh de Silva's The Eternal Dark : Requiem<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybSmPMCshho3Kl4JzHgxEKyGG0qYZVjhupdKbGMRuA7MEPDB7nrQGBcO6FYHa76d8KUB8ZGhwVdf4Xsu6wmOYVbKzld2DPo5fb7WVlwwBeyrSg4IU3C4uCNYdaCG5I-j_mDzp_vUlipdJ/s1600/IMG_4367.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybSmPMCshho3Kl4JzHgxEKyGG0qYZVjhupdKbGMRuA7MEPDB7nrQGBcO6FYHa76d8KUB8ZGhwVdf4Xsu6wmOYVbKzld2DPo5fb7WVlwwBeyrSg4IU3C4uCNYdaCG5I-j_mDzp_vUlipdJ/s640/IMG_4367.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Oh where and where have this book not traveled with me! This
picture is one I took in Dubai where I was reading it during a quiet moment. Several
weeks later I was reading it in Galle, and then in Negombo and then on my
commute to work.</div>
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Safe to say, this book has seen quite a bit. </div>
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Anyhoo, </div>
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When Suresh de Silva announced the launch of his book ‘The
Eternal Dark :Requiem’ I think we all did a raised eyebrows ‘eh?’</div>
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An old manor, a weeping willow, ectoplasm, children who
aren’t children, rats and grandfather clocks was all I personally got out of
that introduction. Needless to say, this piqued my curiosity. </div>
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Six strangers, randomly chosen at a first glance are chosen to
stay at an ancient manor for a period of one month. Each one is handsomely
rewarded for this adventure. That is how the story begins. And that breathtaking cover! I'd have that on my skin as a tattoo any day. </div>
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Let’s dive in shall we?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The ambiance <o:p></o:p></b></div>
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For an old school romantic such as myself, old gothic manors
with a deep, dark history have a very strong appeal. This age old grand manor
with its massive garden and elegant weeping willow up front, stone statues
resembling children is the stuff of dreams and its happenings, the stuff of
nightmares. Grandfather clocks that suddenly spring to life in tentacles and mouth-less
children with doe like eyes with razor sharp teeth, mind-twisting orgies (yes,
orgies) and people being possessed to the point of biting off their own fingers
– this is heavy stuff people. Be prepared.</div>
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The ambiance is sweet, sweet music to this weird little heart
of mine which loves and revels in all things dark and unusual. I love places
with history and adore places that has their past stamped with stories. And here
he is writing of an all-expense paid vacation in a sprawling gothic manor with
so much history within it. In essence I believe Suresh is writing about my
dream vacation! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I fell in love with the manor. So much so I would have
gladly raised my hand and volunteered to transform myself into the albino
creature with a disturbing obsession of feeding the manor with human souls. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The style<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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What I love the most about this piece is its visual and
cinematic style that draws in your mind’s eye exactly what the author wants you
to see. Mind you, this isn’t something that is unique to this book, it is
Suresh’s style which is vividly portrayed even in his song lyrics. The extreme
lucid imagery keeps you engrossed and enthralled that it’s difficult to get
those images from out of your head even if you wanted to at a latter time. The
images are a combination of beauty and the grotesque – we have a beautiful
manor worthy of architectural adoration and then we have the gross and grisly
juxtaposing against it. I also loved the juxtaposition of the resplendent rose
and the tiny albino creature – again a beautiful contrast of beauty and beast. </div>
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When he describes the storm outside you can almost feel the turmoil
in the air, that sinister feeling that something evil is brewing crawling on
your skin. When he describes the wet and clammy mouthless children with teeth
for their eyes, we feel the terror in our veins. This is something definitely
to love in this book.</div>
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Suresh’s way of incorporating erratic flashbacks into the
manor’s troubled past, the back and forth between the characters’ own dilemmas
and the present havoc that is unfolding seems at once overwhelming and a little
all over the place at first but then it all ties up so magnificently well in
the end. The complex web is woven with subtle hints and omens of what is to
come and it is also so well hidden that it is difficult to even discern that
they were forebodings of things to come. It is through these flashbacks that we
answer the most important question – why the manor became what it is, why each
person is who they are, that light bulb moment that suddenly swoops upon you
and gathers everything into a comprehensive bundle, not unlike your mother
descending upon your chaotic room and gathering the dirty laundry into a basket
and setting some method to the madness (Suresh, I am not calling you my mother,
mind you). And even the apparent haphazardness of the writing style represents
for me, the turmoil inside each and every character and also the storm brewing
inside the manor itself. If it was a linear text like everybody expects it to
be, it would not have had the desired effect. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The research<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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It is evident that copious research has gone into this book.
I love how Suresh draws parallels to Sri Lanka’s colonial past, drawing
inspirational gems and pearls out of it and utilizing them to his advantage.
Here’s a man who makes do with what he’s got. He has this breathtaking manner
of yarning facts and fiction to the point that you are completely immersed in
the very soul of the storyline. The flashbacks are vivid and descriptive and
also serves the purpose of explaining why the manor became what it is – which
eventually turns the manor into a character in itself, something I am yet to
come across in a work of literature. For me, the flashbacks are an integral
part of the work itself which pumps life blood into the storyline giving us
readers more material to fuel our imaginations. </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The characters<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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There are 6 main characters here, each of them well drawn
out, well detailed and each with their own flaws and inconsistencies, just
enough to make them unapologetically human. It is remarkable that Suresh hasn’t
painted any of the characters white – each and every one of them have their
special traits - which also happen to be their flaws for the most part which
essentially decides their fate – which I think is a clever twist. We have
Ranjit – the soft, fatherly architect, Keve – the macho crossfit trainer who is
also an ad man, Afzel – the shady little tech wiz, Michelle – ex blogger and
former beauty queen and Jeremy – Creative writer and adorably chaotic fellow. Out
of the 6 Lady Nazira, the elegant psychic has to be my favorite – the silent
and perhaps the physically weakest of them all who also ends up being the
strongest of them all. I just love the grace with which she operates and the
wisdom that she exudes, acting Mother Hen to them all. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The language <o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Oh boy I love those wacky little swear lines! (kids, cover
your eyes). “Fucking duckshit on a kebab”, “high as a satellite”, “what in the
Saturn’s butt ring”, “shit on a kakki stick”, “Fucking badu banis” being some
of my absolute favorite terms (which I am sure I, myself will be using at desperate
times when it calls for elaborately graphic terms for describing my life in
general when the proverbial shit hits the fan). </div>
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The only thing that irked me however, were the long, winding
sentences which made it not exactly a light read. I like my sentences short and
sweet, but that is of course, a personal preference.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The ending<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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For the pure fact that I love happy endings (yes even in horror. I'm a big fat softy yo) and this is not
a happy ending or a closure which I would prefer next to a happy ending, I am saddened by the end. He could have maybe even
killed all the characters off and given us that closure. But Suresh is not
going to give us that closure now, is he? He wants to keep us hanging there
just a little longer, have just the tiniest hope for the only characters who
are left with whom we’ve developed a bond.</div>
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Aiyo. A wicked one the author is.</div>
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Bottom line – JUST READ IT. For people who love fantasy,
gothic horror such as myself this is an extremely rewarding read that will
guarantee you goosebumps and a bloody good time. It is also great in the sense
that the Requiem is extremely thought provoking and you will find yourself
entwined in philosophical threads that makes your think, question about
everything you have taken for granted in your life. Read Eternal Dark: Requiem
because you owe it to yourself. And I am the happiest that in a country and
community that turns up its nose at horror writing, there is yet another gifted
individual writing in that wonderfully twisted style that only a true horror
fan would admire. </div>
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We need more horror writers in this country – especially like
this one. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-9960780708322900482017-03-09T08:58:00.001+05:302017-03-12T00:46:19.721+05:30Challenges, trials & 2017<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The year started with an extremely unpleasant surprise for us. Hubster woke up with a 105.4 fever Sunday a month back and we haven't slept, eaten or practically done anything properly since then.<br />
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Turns out it is indeed the Dengue nuisance. 7 days in the hospital out of which 4 days were in the ICU - days sped by in perpetual chaos, confusion, sadness, anxiety, pure terror and heart ache. A few more comparatively less hectic weeks tending to the sick. But strangely enough, deep, deep down inside, I always knew that everything was going to be okay. And everything is.<br />
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I actually estimated myself to be dead at this point, but here I am, alive albeit hardly but making it through one day at a time. All that matters is that the Hubster is better. The universe is alright again.<br />
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We are however, still in the process of getting our lives back in order. There are bags still packed all over the place from the days when we had to be ready to dash out of the door to the hospital in seconds if needed, there are things missing which keep turning up at the oddest places possible, there are bags of unwashed clothes hiding in corners, there are piles of washed laundry that need folding. Really, there's just so much to do.<br />
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However, I just can't seem to get over the fact that somehow or the other, it's the women who take charge and juggle the responsibilities at any given time of crisis. The men folk in the family take a backseat and participate only when they are asked to. The amount of time I've had to run to the supermarket, to the pharmacy, from work to the hospital to home and to the hospital back again, cooking and preparing, several things at any given time is mind-numbing. The amount of time myself or my mother have been running up and down within the hospital itself - we must have run kilometers within any given day. This is an interesting phenomenon - especially in a patriarchal society such as ours where the man is generally considered to be the doer while the woman is regarded as the passive companion. Are the gender roles changing or has it always been like this? It is rather a curious thing. <br />
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It's been a trying time and yet, everybody learns something out of everything. So today, the day after the International Women's day, here I am collecting the lessons learnt during the whole ordeal in this post.<br />
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<b>1. First name basis at the hospital</b><br />
When the security guard salutes when he sees you after a few weeks and inquires after the husband, you know you've been around a place way too much. The receptionists wave as you pass by, you cannot get into an elevator without saying 'hi' to at least 5 different people and even before you speak a word, the people at the hospital canteen has your order all packed and ready to go. I am simply not comfortable with this level of familiarity. Especially in a hospital.<br />
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<b>2. Marriage is hard. Sickness is harder.</b><br />
For the loner in me, the hardest part of marriage was adjusting to the life in two. But just as I was getting there (one year now and I am SO immensely proud of myself), just as I was settling in all smug and content into marriage bliss, life throws a curve ball. No fair. Being sick is hard, adjusting to married life is hard, but a spouse being sick definitely takes the cake, especially within the first year of marriage. This needs no explanations, you can take my word for it.<br />
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<b>3. Life without waxing IS possible!</b><br />
I've been walking about with the Sinharaja growing off of my legs and the Amazon on my eyebrows and hey, nobody died! (ok, except maybe for that dude who happened to catch a glimpse of me in shorts that one time inside the hospital room whose I think, soul smoldered from the inside). On an ordinary day I would have died, but at that point I was just like meh! I kept telling myself 'you go rock those hairy legs in butt shorts gurrrrlll, and take over the world in all your hairy splendor and you know what, I didn't give a damn. I was the Queen of one track mind (for a change). Eyebrows so overgrown that you can braid them, don't care! Nurse, please change his IV and take his temperature or I will strangle you with all this excess hair! <br />
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<b>4. Keeping appearances</b><br />
Don't ever let people tell you that your appearance doesn't matter. This is true even to hospitals. Go to a nurses' station in disheveled clothes and no one will take you seriously - even if you said that your patient is dying. Go to one well dressed and everyone will spring into action - tried and tested. So every morning got me masking my tired, puffy eyes with some face powder, dabbing on some lipstick and a loud, bright smile and carrying it right throughout the day. By God, this 24 hour cheery performance when all you want to do is break down and cry for mommy was SO exhausting! But it was necessary. Things a woman wouldn't do for her husband I tell you.<br />
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<b>5. You become the Mistress of the Eyeliner Wand and Breaker of Makeup Norms</b><br />
Want to look wide awake and fully alert even if you are drooping asleep standing and feeling like you're dying from exhaustion half the time? I am the woman you should talk to.<br />
I went into the hospital barefaced and bleary eyed and makeup was the last thing on my mind. What came out of the hospital is not a creature that you would want to cross paths with in the Eyeliner Realm. Just another proof that our survival instincts work in the most weirdest ways.<br />
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<b>6. Perfume helps</b><br />
Trudging up and down to the hospital, spending nights on end on a cramped up hospital couch with hardly no sleep because you have to wake up every hour or so when a nurse or a doctor comes or to give him measured liquid or to measure his output, you stop caring what you look like and eventually end up feeling like a toerag. This won't do if everybody around you looks to you for strength, courage and solace. A whiff of perfume works wonders. In my case, it was Daisy by Marc Jacobs that saved me during those trying days. I love how the violet leaf makes me feel like a delicate, yet wild and elegant forest queen with violets in my hair :) <br />
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<b>7. Even foodies can get tired of the kitchen</b><br />
If you follow my <a href="http://www.peckishme.com/" target="_blank">food blog</a>, you probably know how much of a foodie I am. But right now, I wouldn't really mind not seeing a kitchen for another half a century or so.<br />
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For the past couple of weeks, I come home from work, go straight into the kitchen and start cooking. I wake up in the morning and start cooking. When I'm not cooking, I am thinking of what to cook or how to pull it off with minimum effort. The cloths I put on at 5.30 am only comes off at 9pm in the night. Every moment when I am not at work or I am not sleeping, I am in the kitchen, cooking. It's like somebody just picked me up and threw me into an unintelligible chaos. Also, try feeding a recovering dengue patient. I believe opening up your own restaurant is easier.<br />
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<b>8. You start wondering how other women do it</b><br />
Do all women cook for all three meals? Do all women cook rice and curry for that matter, for all 3 meals? How do they manage the cooking, the cleaning and also, work? Am I a bad person for finding it hard to manage? There's all these questions left unanswered still. How do YOU do it?<br />
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<b>9. Everybody loves Raymond.</b><br />
In this case, the hubster. Everybody is concerned, I get it, I really do. But when it comes to family decisions such as choosing a doctor, a hospital and etc, others just need to LAY OFF. He maybe your friend, he maybe your cousin/nephew/son, etc but he married me and I AM his family now. Everybody needs to understand and accept that whatever I do, I do in his best interest and back the HELL down. I have a sick husband at hand to take care of and have NO time for additional drama. Want to transfer him to a "better" hospital under the care of a "better" doctor and move the patient who mustn't be moved? Do so at your own risk. Oh you have no idea how insensitive people can be at times like this.<br />
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<b>10. I must be a tea bag</b><br />
It's true what they say about women being like teabags. We only realize our true strength when we land ourselves in hot water and land myself in hot water I did this time. I was amazed at what seeped out, what a storm I brewed.<br />
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I guess it is this protective nurturing quality in us women. When it comes to taking care of those we love, a supernatural strength takes us over. Things just happen, unconsciously, what needs to be done gets done and at the end of the day you don't even ask yourself why you are so exhausted. I've lost 8 kilos since the incident and am only now slowly gaining what was lost. I've done it all, battling with low blood pressure and the wooziness, the nausea and the migraine that comes with it while catering to every whim and fancy of a recovering dengue patient. And God knows how demanding they can be! My body was frail and ailing and there I was begging for my body to not give up on me yet, managing to drag myself to work, to the kitchen, to the stores, to the hospital over and over again. Thinking back, it simply amazes me. Did I do all that? Like hell I did! Damn!<br />
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<b>11. Your parents will never let you down</b><br />
You can be 50, married with grandchildren and your parents will always be there by your side. Their unselfish, giving, self-sacrifice is amazing and you realize how indebted you are to them, for all that they are, all that they do. I know - for every child, their parents are the most perfect parents in the world, but when I say that my parents are amazing, they REALLY really are.<br />
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When everybody else just broke down and cried their eyes out becoming completely helpless, or panicked and went bull-in-the-china-shop mode, upturning everything in sight, I am grateful for my parents who took matters into their own hands and sprang into action. Things moved because of them. They love and accept my husband as their own - for them he is their own child. This is what I aim to be for my children some day.<br />
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<b>12. You realize how much you love a person</b><br />
Sickness makes you realize so many things. It jolts you to the core and makes you ask the most important questions. So you "love" somebody, but what are you prepared to do for them? When a loved one falls sick, everything just falls into place and you know. You just know. How much is that person worth for you? What will you do for them and what won't you? The answers will come easily, they will flood your senses and suddenly you will be filled with light. You have no time to worry, you have no time to break down and cry. You will know what to do and get busy doing what needs to be done. I found myself faced with the same question and found myself ready to sell my soul and a kidney to the devil just to have him alright again. If you believed that your body can only be pushed to a certain point, you prove yourself wrong all over again, pushing yourself beyond superhuman capabilities. Weeks without proper sleep? Exhaustion from running up and down? Cooking, cleaning and looking after the sick while having dangerously low blood pressure? No problem. Physical limitations don't exist in this plain and it seems like extra energy simply courses through your veins eager to protect and care. What are you prepared to sacrifice for the well being of your loved ones? Everything, your body and mind says.<br />
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So there we are. The toughest and the most important type of growing is done during trying times. And I believe I've learned and grown. Now all I need is some peace and quiet and a place to crash and sleep for oh, like 10 years. *Snore*<br />
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lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-73568842190392975682016-12-05T12:33:00.003+05:302016-12-05T12:43:16.481+05:30And after the break.......<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's a booootiful morning in December and I simply can't get enough of it! I want to soak all of it up, slurp it all up through a straw, like it was the last milkshake on earth.<br />
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Even sunlight seems happy :) <br />
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Total and complete holiday mode on and it's only the first week of December. Well, who the hell cares! It's beautiful out there and I feel sorry for whoever is cooped up in their offices.<br />
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One of the reasons can also be the fact that <a href="http://www.peckishme.com/" target="_blank"><b>Peckish Me</b></a>, my food blog is also in complete holiday overdrive. We've done some awesome videos out of which 2 have been released (you should totally check them out, they are awesome) and there's so much more to come as well!<br />
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By the way, Like our Facebook page <b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/peckishme/" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/peckishme/ </a> :) </b><br />
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....and check out our <b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/peckishme/videos/1793973207540400/" target="_blank">eggnog video</a> . </b>I swear to you this is the most delicious thing you will ever taste in a long, long time.<br />
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We also shared a video of Sangria, a recipe we perfected while in Spain. You can check it out<a href="https://www.facebook.com/peckishme/videos/1792179057719815/" target="_blank"> <b>right here too</b></a><b>.</b> </div>
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More than 3 months since the last post, more than 6 months since Le Marriage. So an absolute hurricane of a time, piles and pile of work which simply kept piling up even more, a creative spell, some dream walking, a bout of depression later, here I am!</div>
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Marriage update - They say that travel is the ultimate test on any relationship and I agree. We have traveled to 3 countries during the past 3 months, braved sickness, irritation, annoyance, panic and stress and if anything, I can say that we have aced the test. Yes, we do fly at each other’s throats occasionally (Me - “I wanna eat that!!!” Him - “No you can’t eat that, we have to go see the next attraction” - it is at this point that the fangs come out) but that only lasts like 5 minutes or less. We understand that we need each other to survive and admit that despite the occasional annoyances, we love each other to bits and pieces. We are each other’s pillar of strength/the bedrock/the foundation and etc and thus we are…pretty solid I must say.<br />
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So 6+ months after marriage I am more patient, more in love and more tolerant. Overall I think I have become a much better human being altogether. We have grown to fit each other's faults and inconsistencies so that we complement each other in our gaps. Both of us nourish each other - and are not hesitant to give up our own comforts for the good of the other. Despite 7 years together prior marriage, we are still growing - we are not perfect but we are becoming perfect for each other. We are inseparable, yet independent and supportive of each other's interests and ventures. He's an amazing human being. And I feel lucky to be by his side. I feel lucky to have found him and marrying him I think, is the best decision I've taken my whole life.<br />
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That being said, no relationship comes easy. You need to work at it continuously, assessing, reassessing, adjusting. And most importantly, not give up. It hasn't been exactly a bed of roses for us either (although it sort of is right now for us *blush*) but having put aside our pride and arrogance when we are with each other and learned to appreciate each other more, it's coming along just fine.<br />
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Besides it feels great to have someone totally and completely adore you even when you are drooling beside him on your pillow in your sleep in your not-so-sexy pajamas :D <br />
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You may say that it’s only been 6 months, but don’t forget, I’ve known the bugger for 7 odd years before tying it up. In marrying him I have married my best friend. And thus I have a best friend for life – one that wouldn’t abandon me, hopefully, when a better offer comes along.<br />
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There are soulmates and then there is the love of your life. The love of your life wins your heart and the right to be part of your life, the soulmate, whether you like it or not, will always be around. You cannot help but always look out for them too. It's an ancient calling past all your impulses and indelicacies. It's great if all of it is one :)<br />
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In other news, I have also acquired many skills. I can now debone a chicken in less than 3 minutes, pack a suitcase in less than 15 minutes and I can tolerate up to 1 hour of socializing, provided I did not have anything pressing to do. I can also operate a washing machine, fill the bath up for a wash and also cook 3 curries at the same time. I am impressed with my crisis control skills and household management - they do say that like a teabag, a woman doesn't know how strong she is unless she lands herself in hot water herself. I cannot, however, still iron a shirt to save my life. Nor can I scrape a coconut (I can, but I choose not to).<br />
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I am slowly beginning to realize that food blogging, which I started as a hobby is indeed a full time job. There is so much to do, there is so much that one CAN do which I am not doing which can enhance the blog and I am desperate to do more. I am forever restless, always wanting to do something that I am sometimes convinced that 24 hours is not enough for all the things that I want to do. Writing and food blogging, on top of a full time job and a family of my own, if Life was a client I don't think it can afford my rates for everything that I do!<br />
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I also had my first foray into horror writing and my first horror short story is going to be published in April 2017 by <span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Farolight Publishing (Cutting Block Books) in the USA. I've been flirting with horror all my life and this new found passion is another thing I need to find time for, because it is something I thoroughly enjoy (and potentially good at cz come on, all those horror stories read as a child and as an adult, all those horror movies watched have to go somewhere right?) </span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">See? Told you there was a lot going on! </span></div>
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lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-37694921770400787392016-08-13T11:26:00.001+05:302016-08-13T11:27:00.769+05:30Peckish Me on Media! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I can't believe I missed this, but <a href="http://www.peckishme.com/" target="_blank"><b>Peckish Me</b></a>, my beloved baby of a food blog has been featured on Sunday Times and Life Online the past few weeks!<br />
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The response has been tremendous. Which also goes to show that I am doing something right. When you put your heart, soul and everything you've got into something and when it blossoms out, the satisfaction you get is indeed indescribable.<br />
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Find the Sunday Times article at <a href="http://www.sundaytimes.lk/160731/plus/words-flow-from-the-flavour-of-food-for-this-foodie-202660.html">http://www.sundaytimes.lk/160731/plus/words-flow-from-the-flavour-of-food-for-this-foodie-202660.html</a><br />
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Find the Life Online article at <a href="http://life.dailymirror.lk/article/33/entertainment/15859/In-Conversation-With-Jayani-Senanayake">http://life.dailymirror.lk/article/33/entertainment/15859/In-Conversation-With-Jayani-Senanayake</a><br />
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I am about to launch into professional restaurant and hotel reviewing so here's to wishing that it goes down well!<br />
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Also, do show this all Sri Lankan food blogger some love by spreading the word. I do my best to concoct easily executable recipes and post it up with a special focus on our local stuff which otherwise go unnoticed by the rest of the world. So here's one Sri Lankan foodie trying to take Sri Lanka out there in to the world. So tell your friends, visit my site, try out my recipes. Also, do 'Like' my <b><a href="http://www.facebook.com/peckishme/" target="_blank">Facebook page </a> </b>and do invite your friends to like it too. Need your support to make it through! </div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-25741218638877917272016-08-13T01:27:00.004+05:302016-08-13T11:17:40.233+05:30Chocolate cake and other stories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This week. It deserves a large slice of chocolate cake all on its own. Death by Chocolate. No, make that chocolate fudge cake. Now that I think about it, one slice won't cut it, make it an entire cake. ALL to myself.<br />
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It's been an exhausting week, the crazy kind of week when one day it's Monday and suddenly, you are groaning from exhaustion while trudging home, dragging your battered body behind on Friday. My whole body is in physical pain and I'm emotional and I'm cranky as my womb is waging that horrific and terrifying war inside. There is a huge zit on my forehead that appeared out of nowhere this morning and it's not even a cute zit. Standing there all by itself looking a little forlorn yet managing to stand tall and proud all the same, it reminds me a little bit of myself - it's me against the world. <br />
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It's been sharp office attire and high heels the whole week and I'm sick and damn tired. I think I'll be in shorts for the rest of the weekend. I think women are amazing for doing all that they do, pulling as much weight as their male counterparts, even more at times, amidst raging storms, the many obstacles and hurdles that only women have to face in this accursed country, and all in high heels and tight dresses too!</div>
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Sometimes I want to leave it all and become a housewife. And then I remember I can't iron a shirt to save my life and therefore would be a terrible housewife. In fact I burned my favourite shirt last night trying to iron it and I still haven't gotten over the shock of it. I loved that shirt. It was a good shirt :( </div>
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Well the only good part in this is that I get to spend two days in my maternal home, in my own sweet room and it has been absolutely magical. With nobody to bother me but my nuisance of a dog, good food and parental spoiling, this is introvert heaven. It's strange how things that you once took for granted later become rare luxuries - time with parents, Frankenstein who is more my child than a dog, my room and familiar surroundings. Don't get me wrong, I adore hubby boy and spoil him to bits and believe that I am a greater pain to him when he is around than he is to me but I cherish this alone time by myself. I need this time to recharge, to think, to collect myself. </div>
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So here I am at 12 o' clock at night sipping on a cup of tea and typing my woes away. Life has never been better! Well, right now at least. </div>
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Had to take a cab to work today in the morning and way back. Although two different cab companies, the only two I use now (I never use Sonit Cabs now because their drivers are leering perverts and knows nothing of respect and their customer service is no better. Ladies, it is NOT safe for a woman to ride a Sonit cab, even with several people accompanying you!) sad to say, they drive like maniacs! The morning one, Budget Taxi, drove at high speed over every road bump and crack on the road he saw (sending me, my shoes and my bags flying every single time) and used the break as much as he used the accelerator and I suspect that at times he used both at once! Think the bloody cow meant to scare me, seeing as to I was a girl (and as per most men girls are scaredy-cats. Boo hoo!). I guessed he likes hearing girls scream. I gave him right and proper instead for not driving carefully and threatened to report him - which I didn't because I was too exhausted at the end of it. The evening one - Kangaroo Cabs - was a little better and the fellow was nicer. Although he still drove like a hormone pumped teenager and sang along to Justin Bieber and 'No Promises', the ride was okay and relatively smooth if you don't count the abrupt applying of breaks and risque twists and turns. And no, he can't sing.</div>
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Today was a shock. I take cabs very frequently and today was the first time I experienced such careless driving. It was a shame because I've always trusted Kangaroo Cabs to be the most reliable with descent mannered and cultured drivers. And Budget Taxi has not been too bad either. </div>
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Has an adventure park closed down recently? Because I think all the roller coaster and thrill ride operators are driving cabs now.</div>
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Life's crazy hectic and I don't know how time flies. But you see, the thing is, if I want something, if I set my heart on something, I always get it or at least go down trying. As my father has put to one of his friends recently who reported it back to me "My girl always gets what she wants. She's stubborn, she's strong headed but she doesn't wait around for things to be handed to her" which made me proud and happy that my father, my role model for life, sees me that way. He is no different, I think I got it from him. So much to do so little time but hey, getting there to accomplishing everything I've ever wanted in life. In terms of <b><a href="http://www.peckishme.com/" target="_blank">food blog</a> </b>we are golden. But more to be done, lots more to be accomplished. Ain't stopping here. </div>
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I just wished someone paid me to just travel and eat. That's it. That would be my job and I'd be the happiest person on earth. What a life that would be! </div>
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And I to bed! 1.29 AM and it's already Saturday. </div>
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lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-65159048351022098052016-08-05T11:50:00.001+05:302016-08-06T00:05:38.119+05:30Metal by the Sea<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Thinking back on all the events that I have attended, I
think I simply must say this - one has not truly lived if one has not
experienced metal by the sea. </div>
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No I don’t mean the type that corrodes with the sea breeze.
I mean metal music – the rawness, the unadulterated pureness of emotion that it
brings forth. It is beautiful how these two savage forces come together in
perfect harmony – sea and metal, such an inebriating combination, a match made
in heaven as it were. </div>
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Soft,warm sand at our feet, wind in our hair and sweet,
bleeding metal at our ears – a strange piece of paradise that baffled and blew
our minds. 2nd of July was truly special. Which is why after almost
a month, the memory is still crispy fresh in our minds. </div>
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The night started off in a rather amusing way. Just as we
turned into the car park at Shore by O, we were warned, albeit in an apologetic
tone, “it’s a band that’s playing tonight. I hope that is okay” (Sir, ada band
ekak gahanne. Kamak naane) by the friendly guy who was directing the traffic
there. We smiled and assured him that it’s more than okay, and that we were
indeed there “to see the band play”.</div>
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It was a lovely evening. The sun had already set and we
lingered a bit on the beach before wandering in. The sea-perfumed breeze
whipped at our clothes and gave us a sense of flying which was rather euphoric.
There was a sense of festivity in the air - perhaps it was all the fairy lights and the semi-charmed atmosphere that dusk creates. It was like being at a beach party
but instead of the colourful bikinis and bare chested fellows, we were
surrounded by a sea of black tshirts, interesting hair and pure, raw energy. </div>
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The stage was set with its back to the sea as a means of
protection against the salt drenched winds. While the setting would have been
absolutely breathtaking at sunset, we felt that this setting did not allow
maximum exposure to the crowd and we were left wondering from where we could
watch the performances. Especially considering that it was a Stigmata gig, (crazy
head banging, communal moshing anyone?) imagine what a glorious pit it would
have created had the stage faced sideways to the sand stretch of land! The sandy
beach, the sea<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a> breeze making all that fabulous hair whip the unrelenting winds asunder (for hair and beard watching are two of the main reasons we like attending gigs), freedom to move frenzied with that slight
intoxication only ocean breeze can provide. However, once we got upstairs our
concerns were quelled. Although a gig is never fully enjoyed while sitting down,
the opportunity was too good to let go. We were able to get balcony seats for
the night – right above the stage, the seats offered uninhibited panoramic
views (ahem) and had the gig started at sunset rather than at that darkened
hour, we could imagine what a view it would have been.</div>
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<b>The Gig <o:p></o:p></b></div>
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The night started with <a href="https://www.facebook.com/abyssband.sl/?fref=ts" target="_blank"><b>Abyss</b></a>, a band that we have not seen
perform before and therefore not very familiar with. These kids had a faint
whiff of Lamb of God about them with rather impressive ax and skins skills and
powerful vocals, although unfortunately we failed to make out any of the lyrics
to the songs. Their performance was energetic and it was surprising that there
was no moshpit action but I eventually attributed it to the narrow (and rather
precarious looking) space in front of the stage which was not very conducive
for moshing. A mix of originals and covers peppered their set but my favorite
was when the Stigmata Skinsman Taraka, joined them onstage for a cover of Lamb
of God’s Black Label. </div>
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Next up was <a href="https://www.facebook.com/salvagedmusic/?fref=ts" target="_blank"><b>Salvage</b></a> and they had been advertised as
performing an acoustic set that night, what with their skinsman being
unavailable for the night. Having witnessed their performances many time
before, I must say, their acoustic performance blew me away. Magic was
definitely in the air as they lulled the crowd with a mix of originals and
covers, each beautifully complemented by the brilliant lighting of the stage
(who did the lighting btw? It was pretty amazing) and the soothing sea breeze
caressing us into oblivion. The acoustics brought out the vocalist’s powerful
tones into the spotlight which are otherwise drowned out by the drums – and we
liked it. I think they should perform acoustic more often. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVp-IltK0ZljaBbrF2FiGhHFzNK5ibgGYLZRG7FjzmdsErd4Bs3HO00_tsLUxhZIjzJiM1Yucsqs7c_1tCY0YVtecEhgOq7O1BSO9VRXxgbObvKb0mW-LXSk61Vo4hrpGkp8kgB8Feacp9/s1600/stigmata.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVp-IltK0ZljaBbrF2FiGhHFzNK5ibgGYLZRG7FjzmdsErd4Bs3HO00_tsLUxhZIjzJiM1Yucsqs7c_1tCY0YVtecEhgOq7O1BSO9VRXxgbObvKb0mW-LXSk61Vo4hrpGkp8kgB8Feacp9/s400/stigmata.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check out the awesome lights-play</td></tr>
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Next up was the mighty <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/stigmatasl/" target="_blank"><b>Stigmata</b></a> who took to the stage. And we
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The performance as always started with a bang. The band unfurled, coiled, glided and stomped its way through their new and old tracks, the
all-time favorites and the sing-along—anthems (as the band puts it) brutally, majestically. There
wasn’t a person who wasn’t mumbling (or screeching) along to the lyrics of the
songs. <br />
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Now anyone who has ever been to a Stigmata gig rarely stops
at just one concert. Their stage presence, the performances, the intensity of
all that raw talent – the combination of it all is one that one rarely sees,
not only in Sri Lanka, but also in the world. Their music speaks for itself –
it speaks to your inner being, it lulls you and caresses you, sometimes it
makes you dance, sometimes it makes you launch yourself into the philosophical sphere and retreat within yourself. With powerful lyrics and mind twisting
music performed by a bunch of insanely (and somewhat insane) talented guys, it is no wonder that Stigmata
concerts usually see quite a lot of people belting out the lyrics to their enchanting pieces along with the band. </div>
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Their set comprised of tunes new and old off their latest
album and their albums past. ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1PXTCETHE4w" target="_blank"><b>Andura</b></a>’, - that sacred tune that every little boy
who had ever wanted to become a guitarist/rocker/ladies’ man wanted to master (“I
noticed you like metal. You know Stigmata? I can play “Andura”*sleazy eyebrow
wiggle*) has always been a crowd pleaser which sent the whole lot into a roaring
frenzy while ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hqp2-v3AgY" target="_blank"><b>Voices</b></a>’, one of their evergreen classics got everybody
howling at the top of their lungs (myself and hubby dearest included) in an
attempt to sing along. Another remarkable fact that my husband (a bigger
Stigmata fan than I will ever be), pointed out was that they played ‘Purer’ for
the first time after a long time and despite the fact that Lakmal’s bass solo
was not properly heard due to technical difficulties, it was magnificent. It was good to hear an old favourite after such a long time. “<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYAsqIXPW74" target="_blank"><b>DeadRose</b></a>” was goose bump -inducingly amazing as always and we launched into
full-fledged dance mode to the trippy tunes of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bamt5TGNoxE" target="_blank"><b>Jazz theory</b></a>, swaying our hips to
the Flamenco and head banging to the rest. The mind boggling tunes of ‘An
Idle mind” as well as the jive-inducing ‘Our beautiful decay’ from their latest
album were welcome additions. But what really stole the show was that
amazing compilation of 90’s cartoon tunes metalized for our taste buds. Andrew
has performed a similar version at the video launch of “On the wings of the
Storm” but this was more refined and more ….well, simply put, absolutely
kickass. The band posted up a teaser of the piece and had our panties in all kinds of twists (the boyos included. Well, especially the boyos) and it wouldn't be wrong to say that this was the moment that we've been waiting for since the beginning of the night. AND it was phenomenal. Not sure how the kiddos who hadn’t known the shows like we did enjoyed
it, but we the 90’s kids totally dig it, having grown up with the likes of
Thunder Cats, Silver Hawks and the X-Men (why do they call it X-MEN? There are
WOMEN there too you know) as our heroes. We had to swat away a few phones
and cameras that popped up covering our faces just to get a glimpse of the
performance ourselves which explains that our enthusiasm was mutual.<br />
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We recorded the piece but had to give up on putting it up here when the upload failed multiple times. Technology has us all by the balls, so sad, sad day :( </div>
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<b>The food<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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This part I usually publish in my <a href="http://www.peckishme.com/" target="_blank"><b>food blog</b></a> but I decided to
do it here anyway. </div>
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Having had a look at the menu, I could see that they had a
large variety of interesting stuff which I was eager to try. But having set my
heart on the baked crab dish that sounded absolutely yummy, I was rather
disappointed to learn that the menu was not available that night (another thing that the friendly guy at the car park warned us about) and only the
displayed items in the buffet were made available. But that disappointment was
short-lived, I was about to discover. </div>
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There were the usual culprits of a seaside pub setting - the
fried rice, the French fries, the hot butter…….OMG!! Ok so bottom line, I ended
up ordering the hot butter cuttlefish, the hot butter mushroom AND the
oh-so-glorious pork in what I suspected, was a bistake. And the food, oh my, exceeded
my expectations by leaps and bounds.</div>
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Call me a prude but I do not have faith in ANYTHING that is
served in disposable things. Handed out in disposable plates, I will be honest
and state that I did not have high expectations of the food. But the first bite
of that hot butter cuttlefish changed my perception forever. It was not overly
spicy or laden with oil like most hot butter cuttlefish dishes you find out
there and rather delicately and expertly spiced. It could have easily found its place on the menu of a fine dining resto (if only they offered hot butter cuttlefish at these places). The batter was crisp and fresh
with a delicious crunch with the cuttlefish tender and buttery inside – a
difficult feat to achieve having made <a href="http://www.peckishme.com/hot-butter-cuttlefish/" target="_blank"><b>hot butter cuttlefish</b></a> myself on numerous
occasions. The pork was juicy and melt-in-the-mouth tender with a delicate
balance between the sweet and the spicy which was rather delightful. And anyone who has ever cooked pork know how easy it is to overcook the meat and have it resembling tough old boots. </div>
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I did not care much for the hot butter mushroom though.
While the textures were on point, the flavours were a little bland which was a pity
was because just a pinch more salt and a few more chili flakes would have made
it just perfect.</div>
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So the food – wonderfully done and was a worthy effort. Nibbling on a piece of pork, munching on the hot butter cuttlefish, sipping on a Kahlua cocktail and listening to some of the best bands in Sri Lanka play their hearts out? That was truly priceless.</div>
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It was a night to remember in so many ways. </div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t remember the last time we danced at a metal gig but here is one in which we did. I don’t think we were drunk (I don’t think one cocktail can send us spinning off like that) but ocean breeze and good music are known to have intoxicating effects on us human beings. Giddy and light headed, we were laughing all the way home and it was with some effort that hubby dearest dragged me away from going dancing on the beach. T’was a good, good night. T'was an awesome night <span style="font-family: "wingdings"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Check out some of the performances <b><a href="http://decibel.lk/stigmata-live-the-shore-by-o-here-what-you-missed/" target="_blank">here</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-5907838609292576312016-07-25T14:23:00.004+05:302016-07-25T14:35:02.157+05:30On time and being "busy"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a child, I had wanted to be busy. I used to look at my
parents and others who I used to regard as adults and marvel at how wonderful
their lives may be, how important they must feel, to be so busy all the time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a university student, I smirked whenever someone said
they were busy. I preferred long bus rides to a quick cab ride or being driven
around by someone. I liked long walks and often walked the 5-6 KMs that was
there from my university to my home refusing to take a bus or a tuk. I did not
understand why others did not do the same. I was dismayed that people were
always in a rush to get somewhere, I hated how they used to honk at traffic
lights instead of patiently waiting, enjoying their time. I reveled in visiting
friends and spending time with them and could not understand why people older
than us did not revel in it anymore. I hated how no one took the time to stop
and appreciate the small things. I did want to rush anywhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But now I do. In fact, I am always rushing, everywhere at any given time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As an adult (ok well at least age wise) I now understand why
people are always rushing, why people are always in a hurry to get somewhere,
why people grow restless waiting. I understand why people are impatient and
they do not enjoy the privilege of meeting up with friends, stopping and
appreciating the little things in life and basically, taking it slow. Because I
myself am in a constant rush now. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not sure when it happened, but suddenly you are caught
up in this whirlpool of events and happenings that leave you exhausted all the
time. Earlier you would rather go out dancing, catch up with friends or travel,
do something adventurous but now, getting holed up in your room with a nice cup
of tea with no one for company and a few hours to yourself is the perfect
adventure that you’ve been dreaming of.longing for.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What happened? I started working. I started rising. I
started getting ambitious. I now have everything I have ever dreamt of
career-wise with a very comfortable material life. But I have lost something
very valuable to myself along the way. Time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remember the time I worked 4 jobs because I was not
satisfied and still enjoyed the painfully slow bus rides home. I remember the
times when coming home from work was not a certainty and after going home from
office at 11 pm, opened up my laptop at 12 to continue working till the wee
hours of the morning only to get up and go to work again. I worked through
weekends, I worked through nights. I worked hard and I worked with honesty. I
created a life for myself and depended on no one to provide for me. And of that
I am proud. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because of that, life is not as hectic as it used to be anymore. I am reaping the fruits
of all that hard work all those years back and if I wanted, I could retire now
and still lead a comfortable life. But I do not want to stop. This is the real tragedy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I used to wonder at people getting pedicures done at salons,
paying good money. Why could they not get it done at home – scrub the feet,
file those nails, push back the cuticles, get rid of the dead skin at the soles
of feet, apply nail polish – base coat first, color second and top coat last, a
small interval between each of these steps. Now I find myself getting a
pedicure every once in a while. I get pedicures just to feel good. It feels good to rest
my feet for a while – something that I hardly get time for anymore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Strange how things have changed, opinions and all. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The thesis monster has been slain. It is strange though, I
had thought that it would have physically felt like lifting a weight off my
head and I would feel like dancing through the meadows, arms outstretched with an absolute sense
of freedom but nothing of the sort has been felt. It just feels…..normal. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although the MBA is finally over, there are other things
that take up my time. <a href="http://www.peckishme.com/" target="_blank"><b>My food blog</b></a> for example. It’s taken off at a rate and I
am ever so proud of it. Slowing down now would be fatal. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All the trips that me and the husband creature promised
one another we would take, all the things that we promised ourselves that we
will do, still awaits. Honestly speaking, all I want to do right now is stay
home and sleep! And cuddle. And eat and drink. And just lie around doing basically nothing in particular. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life. It was only yesterday that was Sunday and here I am already wishing for the weekend. But what we don't realize is that as we eagerly wait for the weekend, we are also
wishing for less time with our loved ones, less time on planet earth, less time to be young, the end of an era, for death itself. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We humans sometimes don't realize what we wish for - and then get it anyway in the end. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-87410750061895130802016-07-25T14:23:00.001+05:302016-07-25T14:29:57.813+05:30On time and being "busy"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a child, I had wanted to be busy. I used to look at my
parents and others who I used to regard as adults and marvel at how wonderful
their lives may be, how important they must feel, to be so busy all the time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a university student, I smirked whenever someone said
they were busy. I preferred long bus rides to a quick cab ride or being driven
around by someone. I liked long walks and often walked the 5-6 KMs that was
there from my university to my home refusing to take a bus or a tuk. I did not
understand why others did not do the same. I was dismayed that people were
always in a rush to get somewhere, I hated how they used to honk at traffic
lights instead of patiently waiting, enjoying their time. I reveled in visiting
friends and spending time with them and could not understand why people older
than us did not revel in it anymore. I hated how no one took the time to stop
and appreciate the small things. I did want to rush anywhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But now I do. In fact, I am always rushing, everywhere at any given time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As an adult (ok well at least age wise) I now understand why
people are always rushing, why people are always in a hurry to get somewhere,
why people grow restless waiting. I understand why people are impatient and
they do not enjoy the privilege of meeting up with friends, stopping and
appreciating the little things in life and basically, taking it slow. Because I
myself am in a constant rush now. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not sure when it happened, but suddenly you are caught
up in this whirlpool of events and happenings that leave you exhausted all the
time. Earlier you would rather go out dancing, catch up with friends or travel,
do something adventurous but now, getting holed up in your room with a nice cup
of tea with no one for company and a few hours to yourself is the perfect
adventure that you’ve been dreaming of.longing for.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What happened? I started working. I started rising. I
started getting ambitious. I now have everything I have ever dreamt of
career-wise with a very comfortable material life. But I have lost something
very valuable to myself along the way. Time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remember the time I worked 4 jobs because I was not
satisfied and still enjoyed the painfully slow bus rides home. I remember the
times when coming home from work was not a certainty and after going home from
office at 11 pm, opened up my laptop at 12 to continue working till the wee
hours of the morning only to get up and go to work again. I worked through
weekends, I worked through nights. I worked hard and I worked with honesty. I
created a life for myself and depended on no one to provide for me. And of that
I am proud. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because of that, life is not as hectic as it used to be anymore. I am reaping the fruits
of all that hard work all those years back and if I wanted, I could retire now
and still lead a comfortable life. But I do not want to stop. The needs have
magnified and I need to work to achieve those needs. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I used to wonder at people getting pedicures done at salons,
paying good money. Why could they not get it done at home – scrub the feet,
file those nails, push back the cuticles, get rid of the dead skin at the soles
of feet, apply nail polish – base coat first, color second and top coat last, a
small interval between each of these steps. Now I find myself getting a
pedicure every once in a while. Otherwise I just apply a coat of colour on top
of chipped nails and hope that it isn’t noticeable. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I get pedicures just to feel good. It feels good to rest
my feet for a while – something that I hardly get time for anymore. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Strange how things have changed, opinions and all. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The thesis monster has been slain. It is strange though, I
had thought that it would have physically felt like lifting a weight off my
head and I would feel like dancing through the meadows with an absolute sense
of freedom but nothing of the sort has been felt. It just feels…..normal. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although the MBA is finally over, there are other things
that take up my time. <a href="http://www.peckishme.com/" target="_blank"><b>My food blog</b></a> for example. It’s taken off at a rate and I
am ever so proud of it. Slowing down now would be fatal. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All the trips that me and the husband creature promised
one another we would take, all the things that we promised ourselves that we
will do, still awaits. Honestly speaking, all I want to do right now is stay
home and sleep! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life. It was only yesterday that was Sunday and here I am already wishing for the weekend. But what we don't realize is that as we eagerly wait for the weekend, we are also
wishing for less time with our loved ones, less time on planet earth, less time to be young, the end of an era, for death itself. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We humans sometimes don't realize what we wish for - and then get it anyway in the end. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-72117963255960432792016-05-31T19:06:00.001+05:302016-05-31T20:23:23.961+05:30Writing theses & making enemies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
CHOCOLATE!! I NEED CHO CO LATE!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!<br />
<br />
Such is my eternal mood these days.<br />
<br />
I lay brooding in my thesis induced state in a nest of chocolate wrappers, surrounded by crumbs of Twix, KitKat and Ritzbury Chocolate fingers (I kid you not, that stuff is GOOD!), starring spaced out at a computer screen, so much so that the screen is imprinted on my cornea. I feel slightly hungover although not a drop of alcohol has passed my lips since, oh the wedding. Note to self - after this grand nuisance of a thesis is done, I swear I will open a bottle of 1989 Cabernet Sauvignon all by myself (well maybe with a little help from the hubby boy. Remember that time when I popped a bottle of Champagne and the cork ended up landing on my head? Ya. So no) and finish it all by myself! (Maybe hubby boy can have a sip since he helped open the bottle and all).<br />
<br />
When all this is over I am also taking a looooong, shamefully indulgent spa treatment. I will combine two spa treatments if I have to because well, my aching body, limbs and mind demands it! And then I'm going to go shopping. And I mean SHOPPING. Like real hardcore, drop-dead, can't carry anymore, there's literally a hole in my wallet kind of shopping. And it's going to be totally awesome.<br />
<br />
Which has also got me thinking, what do I really do with all this time once this wretched thing is over! Hmmm...now that's a thought.<br />
<br />
On other news, I think I have an enemy! This is exciting news in my otherwise greatly drab life! <br />
<br />
I don't know when or where I started noticing it. There I was being my usual spaced-out self getting into the staff transport after a long and tiring day at work and flopping down on my favourite seat minding my own business/reading/listening to music and etc and suddenly I notice this little waif of a woman, looking more like a fruit fly than a woman (I swear I could almost see the antennas on her head) with large spectacles covering almost her entire face, actively giving me these God-Awful withering looks that would have wilted a coconut tree as she passed my seat every day. I noticed this once or twice and while fleetingly wondered what that was all about, forgot all about it afterwards. That was until she pushed me. And butted me with her oversized handbag. And stamped my feet. And purposefully sat next to me and while still giving me the evil eye, started pushing me to the corner complaining how she doesn't have enough space. <br />
<br />
And this is not accidental pushing or shoving mind you. It would have been all negligible and I would have quickly dismissed it with an indifferent wave of hand if it hadn't been for the "I will eat your first born and pick my teeth with its bones" kind of look on her bug face every time each of these things happened *shudders* <br />
<br />
Now this is the staff transport route that I take since I partially moved to Yakkla (this is my cue to break into howls of despair and snotty nosed sobs) after marriage while when I am in Kiribathgoda, I have this awesome staff transport with awesome people who are full of smiles and kind and tender words. The Yakkala transport has always been troublesome for me. It's literally like the transport from hell. Being the new girl isn't easy there with everybody bulling me but I braved them all and just when I thought that I've seen the last of my troubles, along comes bug lady (honestly I can't seem to get over how bug-like she really is) and hovers about like that annoying fly (making that annoying wheeeeeeeeeee sound) that you just can't seem to get rid of.<br />
<br />
And then I realized what her problem might be. Having sat at my seat once or twice while I was in Kiribathgoda, she seems to have developed a liking for where I usually sit. I like that seat, it's where I always sit. I like it because it gives me the secluded space that I need at the end of a tiring day surrounded by people and I like it because, well, I simply like it. And this fawn of Satan (it's quite easy to picture her doing the devil dance naked around a blazing fire and sacrificing virgins and drinking their blood), has developed a liking for it too. And she absolutely loathes me for having claimed it back, takes every chance she can to be nasty. I don't get it. I really don't get it.<br />
<br />
So these days I find myself being usurped of my seat. Even when I come right at 4.30 on the dot (I managed several days just to test my theory), there she is, smugly seated, watching me from the corner of her eye, watching to see what I would do. I, of course, do not betray my feelings and not willing to admit defeat and I cooly go claim another seat without so much of a glance in that direction, calmly take out my book/music and continue doing what I do, all the time of course, muttering curses under my breath. Still I could feel her eyes boring right into the back of my head. The little Rumpelstiltskin clearly has a problem.<br />
<br />
One often does wonder how one is snugly seated in the staff transport sharp at 4.30 when one only gets off duty at 4.30. I of course having actual work to do, cannot even comprehend how one is seated in the staff transport at 4.30 on the dot. Either she does not have any work to do, she does not work but loafs around till 4.30 or she has brilliant teleportation powers. I honestly doubt that it is the latter. Needless to say, it is because of people like this that companies go bankrupt and empires fall.<br />
<br />
And when I make an enemy, I find out everything about them. And I mean EVERYTHING. And people who know me know that I am frighteningly good at it too. <br />
<br />
But this case is an exception.<br />
<br />
Despite the best of my attempts, I only found out the following information - she wears a ring on her left ring finger, which indicates that she may or may not be married, has an appearance of about 48 - 50 years old, which also may or may not be the case, a constipated look on her face and that she has a terrible dress sense. She works for the same organization that I do and may or may not live in Gampaha. That's it. Not even a name or a department. And this is despite my best efforts.<br />
<br />
Which further goes to show that she may not be human.<br />
<br />
This malicious little imp always finds a way to be close to me, even when I'm not sitting in her favourite seat(which is, technically speaking MINE!). Yesterday I found her breathing down my neck (which is quite hard to do since I am a good head or so taller than her) and this morning, without me even being aware of her presence, pushes me. I of course did not take this assault lying down. I pushed back. And answered the glowering and the swearing that followed with a sweet smile and a sorry.<br />
<br />
That felt good.<br />
<br />
All jokes aside, the situation is seriously sinister. If I am stabbed (cue 'Psycho' music) or mysteriously disappears, let this blog post be witness that it is the bug lady who probably has me skinned alive and is beaming from ear to ear, having covered herself with a blanket made off my skin.<br />
<br />
*Shudders*. My fascination with the macabre even scares me sometimes.<br />
<br />
On other matters, the prospect of becoming a stay-at-home person (I have an inherent abhorrence to the the term "housewife". It sounds like a synonym for domestic slave. Or slave wife.) is seeming more and more attractive in my eyes. Getting up early morning is taking away the good part of my youth I feel and for the best part of the day I am elsewhere getting harassed by Satan's imps and waging other people's wars. I am very happy about my current workplace. Nonetheless, I love my home (MY home. Not where I currently am) even more. But as people would say, I was born awesome but not rich, so getting up in the morning and going to work has to be worked in to the schedule somehow for now.<br />
<br />
Unless I found a way to make a living from home. Hmm.....<br />
<br />
And while I thus so shamelessly indulge in procrastination in the multifaceted forms of, inspirational posts, cat videos (I don't even like cats), celebrity gossip (I don't know who half these people are), serial killers (Yes, those are fascinating) and oh, pretty much anything that distracts me (it's amazing how everything starts seeming oh-so-interesting when you have something else to do, isn't it?), it bothers my mind that there sits, like a giant venomous, ugly frog, a monolithic (and torturous) thesis demanding my attention, blowing raspberries at me, making my very existence a source of woe and worry. And then there's my <a href="http://www.peckishme.com/" target="_blank"><b>food blog</b></a> that I have sold my soul to. There also awaits a very exciting book that I've read 3/4 (Isabel Allende is awesome) and it's funny how I find myself sneaking off with it all the time to the washroom/hidden away in my room and etc. I don't know who I am hiding from! It's hilarious really. And a little sad :(<br />
<br />
Anyhoo, it will all be over soon, I promise. (gives myself a hug).<br />
<br />
I shall now go back to hatching a plan on getting back at that evil little staff transport Satan worshiper. Life just got a wee bit interesting with this malicious little imp of mine *rubs hands together as evil laughter ensues*<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-44141737721951364322016-05-18T21:44:00.001+05:302016-05-18T22:03:09.694+05:30Theses and life in general these days<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So what do you do when you have a thesis to write and less than a month to submit it?<br />
<br />
You eat, drink, you finish the book you've been reading, write a verse or two, knead some bread (and bake it), watch a movie and then write a longass blog post about it.<br />
<br />
Really I am pathetic.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeMDKNLU-1VGDh7HzLZcLCyQ3a58IGq88iQUfpg-kqJgUsGVgSavfSlhMR25wtLmvLk2GGFYEFHNYNlYF4n-78mWpHkJbFn_I1laOpRcVMA8QaQ6CJWKUGh0A925f6WzTpowWAeM0x9tj2/s1600/grouchy+old+lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeMDKNLU-1VGDh7HzLZcLCyQ3a58IGq88iQUfpg-kqJgUsGVgSavfSlhMR25wtLmvLk2GGFYEFHNYNlYF4n-78mWpHkJbFn_I1laOpRcVMA8QaQ6CJWKUGh0A925f6WzTpowWAeM0x9tj2/s200/grouchy+old+lady.jpg" width="191" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So as you may be aware (if not check out my pre wedding posts on the blog which I am not too keen on sharing here), the Lady got married recently. As she is going about settling into this conjugal bliss/confusion/blissful confusion (?), it's time for us, both of us, to kill ourselves over yet another endeavor again.<br />
<br />
And WHAT is this endeavor pray? Why, it is the final project of our MBA program - the Grand Thesis!<br />
<br />
Comprising of a grand 15,000 odd words and a million other mundane things to do, to complete this monstrous task we were given, realistically, a little over one measly month. Technically the time period should be 3 months but well, by the time the method of the project had been conveyed to us, a whole two months are gone. Poof! Just like that!<br />
<br />
Well <i>technically</i>, we could have started a month or so back but you know how things are in Procrastination Land. With hubby boy setting me to shame with procrastination skills, I am a little way ahead of him really in this whole arduous process.<br />
<br />
And why am I writing this post now? Because PROCRASTINATION.<br />
<br />
But I have my reasons you see. Just days after the wedding ceremony, we had to submit an assignment, over which we slaved over during what should have technically been our honeymoon. And no sooner do we hand THIS over, we are dragged away on yet another exciting adventure - talk about great timing for marriage.<br />
<br />
And we are planning on a proper honeymoon as soon as all this hullabaloo is over. Heck, we are planning on honeymooning every other week!<br />
<br />
Anyways,<br />
<br />
Life is a little bit complicated now, what with shifting of residences, learning the life in two instead of one (two is better than one they say which I sometimes, only sometimes, begin to doubt), adjusting, adjusting and then adjusting some more. There's just too much of adjusting going on. <br />
<br />
Am I such a horrible person that I sometimes keep pining for the days pre-marriage?<br />
<br />
Marriage is a tremendous thing. I say tremendous because I can't find any other suitable word for it. There's the entire and complete change of lifestyle that is more than a little hard to swallow (btw, I think it is brutal that it is the girl who has to give up her name, the home where she grew up in, her family, move into an entirely strange place and set up life anew burdened with a ton of responsibilities that she had never known.) No matter what anybody says, it is the woman who makes the biggest sacrifices in a marriage. Let no one else tell you otherwise.<br />
<br />
The other thing is the list of expectations that come with being married. Here in Sri Lanka you don't just marry the man, you marry his entire family, his grand uncle's first cousin, his daughter and her pet dog. Your man you can handle (sometimes), even the man's parents (here I have no complaints because I am blessed with the sweetest in-laws ever and I find myself adoring them even more than the hubby person :P ), but the extended family and friends - that I was not prepared for. You are expected to visit the relations' houses, the numerous alms givings, funerals, birthdays, Avrudu visits, bana, etc and being the new kid on the block, you are not supposed to miss a single one! And to just sit there smiling all prim and proper making conversation although you have absolutely nothing in common- let's just say that it's only slightly tolerable than having my fingernails pulled out. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOQoY-Z7zmVEwlBjYW96qzKBf4eGTM1JmDzxZtjkb_1IvtTyp2pfWDBPDUUWEA2Ppkzcv3TAlhiS46LXLcUdEPS6eCKbMTG-g3DfFBga-qSDYINZUrGIVfM5W9VXZYtzlaNGF0fF-CNbH_/h120/redwoman.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfZwok-zVsRo8MY52fSdm-ts3IE_l2btUE6zxmqPLROKttM5ZD9DI7iFQYwIK6fX7egVhcGMI6pqT2OZm0OrsKNUVakwD5UaAZPlFL1huLuQxyKPlRz6FLDXe1Xn3cT2aR9N7jwdo8DY2Z/h120/redwomanold.jpg" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Let's visit all our relatives just once, he said </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
What you can't really shake off is this great loss of independence. You going anywhere alone is suddenly frowned upon, you are always expected to be seen in twos (you went to your own home by yourself?? Where's your husband/wife? You came by yourself??Oh horror!). There's also this sense of lost identity as you are identified as not you, Jayani C. Senanayake, woman, individual, human being in her own right but as somebody's wife/somebody's new daughter-in-law, etc. And it all feels very strange.<br />
<br />
It's also strange, but you really can't help but feel that you are only half of what you really are, half of what you should be. It's sometimes like you are on this vacation that you don't particularly enjoy (or not enjoy) and your actual life is elsewhere, waiting for you. It's otherworldly sometimes, like being in an alien ship, being abducted. Or some equally unnerving thing.<br />
<br />
Oh before I forgot, Melisandre gave life to Jon Snow! Useless bugger he is. He's been refusing every damn exciting thing that he has been suggested so far except to go to the North to fight Ramsey. Finally. I was beginning to wonder what a waste of resources to bring him back to life.<br />
<br />
Getting back to the topic,<br />
<br />
Leave alone mental trauma, the utter exhaustion (I'm used to working 20 hours a day and I'm more exhausted by all THIS than 20 hours of nonstop work) and etc, but I think the biggest challenge for me is that being a loner, sharing my space and maintaining my boundaries. For example, I like to sleep in late and wake up to a cool, dark room on my own terms whereas the hubby boy throws open the windows the moment he wakes (and he wakes way earlier than me), flooding the room with sunlight. This annoys me. Like REALLY annoys me. <br />
<br />
On one hand you thank your lucky stars to have found someone as amazing as him. On the other, you end up wondering WHY you decided to get married in the first place - I tell you, it's a constant dilemma.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, I married my best friend and partner in crime of so many years and we love each other to bits and pieces. But we are not perfect. We've gone through hell and back holding hands, we bicker and fight but at the end of the day we always end up in each other's arms. Having been together for 7 odd years, you naturally assume that you know everything there is to know about each other and take comfort in the fact that you two are so much alike. But once you start living with each other and start building a life together only you realize how different you really are, how contradictory your needs and priorities are. (actually I think the differences start playing out when you start planning your wedding together).<br />
<br />
So how do you reconcile those differences?<br />
<br />
You don't. You just need to remind yourself that you are two completely different human beings from two completely different backgrounds and always remind yourself how much you love and respect one another. As time goes on and as you distance yourself from the "Me" concept and start viewing the world through the "We" lens, you learn to be kind. You learn to be patient. You always remind yourself that the other person is trying too. Ultimately, things get easier. However, the practicalities remain. You do change. Tremendously. Monolithically. Stupendously.<br />
<br />
And you learn to love more, to give more. And to expect nothing in return. You learn to look after yourself and in the process, you grow stronger.It's a good feeling, a satisfying feeling.<br />
<br />
Alone, in a stranger's house, learning to fend for yourself, away from people who surrounded you with nothing but love all your life, you learn what being a woman is all about.<br />
<br />
In certain ways you are happy - happy to come home into loving arms and adoring eyes, happy to wake up to tight hugs (when you are not waking up to shrill alarms that is). In certain ways, life has become strange, stranger than fiction and it is too far out of your comfort zone to be really happy with.<br />
<br />
Oh and also RR Martin has released the first chapter of Winds of Winter. The dirty bastard. There's no end to him taunting us. It pisses me off.<br />
<br />
Anyways,<br />
<br />
I thought I should make a small list of things that changed after marriage, you know, just to keep score. I'd like to check back a month from now and keep monitoring. It should be interesting. So here goes.<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Goodbye lovely long nails. Hello scraggly bits that faintly resemble human nails.</li>
<li>I can skin and debone a chicken under 5 minutes.</li>
<li>I watch the occasional non-horror/non-psycho thriller movie and do not complain about it. (Wait, what?!?)</li>
<li>I get up much earlier than usual (those who know me would know that in my world, getting up at all, let alone getting up early, equals death)</li>
<li>I don't really care what I look like. Hair looking like something just exploded in there and you are in butt shorts, all dusty and hot, having been cleaning the ceiling fans but have to run to town to get 5 eggs? No problem.</li>
<li>I am no longer choosy about what I eat. Sprats, spinach, potatoes, fish - I eat it all, not even a whimper. </li>
<li>I put up with damp bathrooms full of muddy footsteps. Just a month back, I would have called the fire brigade to hose the place down but now, I just go meh. </li>
<li>I go without my morning cup of tea (HUH? :O). After getting up at 5 and preparing office lunches, I literally have no time for tea. Days when I just could NOT wake up without my tea seem a lifetime away. </li>
<li>I can cut and deseed a watermelon, conjure up business plans in my head, button my shirt and screw on my earrings at the same time. Multitasking - Nailed it! </li>
</ul>
<div>
More of this - laters.<br />
<br />
So is marriage really for me? I would love to shout out a big, loud, cheerful yes, but a bit of the same old usual reluctant me remains inside looking slightly doubtful. The truth is I don't know, not just yet. It sure isn't easy and it isn't always a bed of roses. But we do get by. Baby steps. One day at a time. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So these days I drift through life with the gait of a dreamwalker (which is literally the case because I am up till the wee hours of the morning working on my thesis and in the morning I have to go to work with less than 3 hours of sleep where I sleepwalk through the day all over again. I have no leave. I got married.). The light at the end of the tunnel seems so very far off and frankly, I'm not even sure if there is at least a flashlight at the end of it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I long for the day that we can wake up properly and start living once again. This thesis is draining the life out of all of us. But the good thing is, we've got each other's back :)</div>
</div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-72447813118379229802016-02-16T16:17:00.000+05:302016-02-16T18:58:14.035+05:30Stranger in a Sari<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7cN0ywvdy8yasQklcj2dwzavSlsZxcr9luNq1JYpHr48qZQadmOdqiKVykCvh04KBdu7JFbHmmUuGu6Xr_Mz6MiTZxvP4iROZAu2b1g_Zp0OH_GFmXEP5TQFM5TYC9YHAialelsqG25b/s1600/022hhh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7cN0ywvdy8yasQklcj2dwzavSlsZxcr9luNq1JYpHr48qZQadmOdqiKVykCvh04KBdu7JFbHmmUuGu6Xr_Mz6MiTZxvP4iROZAu2b1g_Zp0OH_GFmXEP5TQFM5TYC9YHAialelsqG25b/s400/022hhh.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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When Dinesh Ravindra Gunaratne (otherwise known as DRG), longtime friend, movie maker
and fellow arts-enthusiast invited us for “<a href="http://strangerinasari.com/" target="_blank"><b>Stranger in a Sari</b></a>”, I literally
rubbed my hands together and exclaimed “finally!”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having known this individual for quite a while as an incredibly gifted
artistic soul with this sense of something (we have always interpreted as) just bursting to come out,
in my head he had always been this ticking time bomb, ripe for bursting forth with
something wonderful. But we knew him mostly as a movie maker with a
flare for the unusual and his never-seen-a-box-in-his-life way of thinking. So when
“<a href="http://strangerinasari.com/" target="_blank"><b>Stranger in a Sari</b></a>” finally came out, Dinesh had more than a few surprises in
store for us. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The venue was laid out tastefully with elegance and
sophistry, one that you would only expect from someone with an eye (kudos to the
awesome deco person Gihan Karunanayake). The program was short and sweet with a
few readings from some intriguing pieces including the fascinating short story
“Stranger in a Sari” which held the audience captive within the short time it
unrolled. The crowd present was comprised of Dinesh’s closest circle and the love was
indeed felt as Dinesh took the microphone in hand to thank the myriad people
who were involved. Judging by the response of the crowd, it was quite plain to
see that the writer and artist is a much loved individual cherished by many. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Let me rewind just a little bit.</div>
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<br /></div>
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So there I was having arrived early, flipping through the
beautiful booklet that was handed to me (classy and intriguing cover, 4 elegant bookmarks n
all) waiting for my other half (who was characteristically late). It didn’t take
long for this unassuming little thing to draw me right in. It was a strange
feeling, sitting there in the midst of the crowd yet hardly even aware of them,
lost within the pages of the book. The crowd did not exist. The Cappuccino in
front of me did not exist. Simply said, the words on those pages wrenched my
heart right out of my rib cage, squeezed it open and left it bleeding, exposed
and vulnerable. All my life’s heartbreaks came tumbling back to me. There was
pain, yes, unbearable, all consuming, pain, but there was also hope. And it was
amazing how he has taken that pain inside him, twisted and twirled it into a
masterful craft, sprinkled it with a bit of hope and unleashed it full blast upon us unsuspecting beings. It was
cruel, beautiful poetry, brought forth by a cruel beautiful world. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Weirdly enough, this hard-hitting phenomenon left me nostalgic for all the heartbreaks
of the past. <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>Hardly something that one would be nostalgic
about. Most importantly, it made me “feel”.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“I woke up</div>
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With pain </div>
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Gushing through
my veins</div>
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Losing you </div>
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Made me fear
life” </div>
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<br /></div>
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He says. And
on the next page he is</div>
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<br /></div>
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“kissing the
mirror</div>
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To feel the
wetness of</div>
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Your lips”</div>
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<br /></div>
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Pungent. Vivid. Resonating. And the reader goes, ‘I know
that deep stabbing pain in the morning just as you wake up. I know exactly how
you feel!’. </div>
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My personal favourite has to be the below.</div>
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“It’s hard
when</div>
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Memories remain
in</div>
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Your old
phone’s</div>
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Memory card</div>
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She took the
exact picture</div>
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The same
pose</div>
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With her new
husband…..” </div>
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<br /></div>
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Very real,
very true to life. This could be anyone, phones bearing too many memories, exes
taking the same kind of pictures in the same poses as they once posed with you
with their new found lovers – we’ve all faced that pang of deep, deep hurt,
that first moment of discovery when you stumble upon your pictures with them on
Facebook just when you thought you are over them……</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Health tip</div>
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Don’t try to
own </div>
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A travelling
heart</div>
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With the
hope of</div>
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Hiding it</div>
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Inside your
soul</div>
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From the
rest of the world”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
How very,
very true. </div>
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<br /></div>
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What is
remarkable about this is that even though it seems like the protagonist has suffered a deep
loss and has been in a dark lonely place, there is no bitterness, no anger nor
hatred detected in any of these pieces. There is a childlike innocence in the protagonist,
an eternal optimism that shines through his words. The woman, the creature that
caused him pain is presented as a sublime, sensual, mysterious creature by whom
the protagonist continues to be very much fascinated. There is respect and awe
of the female creature still and a sense of adoration. This amazes me - in a
world where females are lashed at, insulted and objectified every second of the
day, this is refreshingly new indeed. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Dinesh refers to his collection as “sentimental rants”. And with
that he shows us how easy it is to enjoy and to feel humanity with all its faults,
its sensuality, emotions, sentiments and feelings without the pompous grandeur
or the unnecessary embellishments. The empathy in his work is astounding. It is
honest to goodness emotions turned to words, scattered upon the pages, with
love. Simply, beautiful. </div>
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I particularly loved the short stories. If anything, Dinesh
Ravindra Gunaratne is a superb story teller and this is not the first time he
has exhibited it. Unexpected plot twists, incredibly detailed accounts, he
sucks you into these little parallel universes he creates with his stories and
abandons you there, leaving you to your own antics. You simply could not rest
until you’ve read it all. He has this old school style of writing, showcasing I
think, a love for all things vintage and a sort of yearning for the past when
things were lavish and dramatic. This, especially, appeals to me. Things are
much too sterile and minimalist these days, boring in execution and insipid in
design. His prowess as a movie maker sharpens his knack for story writing,
these tales bringing characters to life and engraving them in your mind. These
are memorable stories showcasing rare genius. It’s been a while since I’ve read
a memorable short story, Dinesh’s being the first in perhaps, years. </div>
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Speaking about his movie making, I wish I had a few links to
his short movies to back up my claim. But here is the trailer of just one of
his many works called <b>“<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHloK-cTQ9U" target="_blank">Mata pissu naha</a></b>” that I managed to find online after
raking through tons and tons of material. However,
do check out the <b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Mathawaada/timeline" target="_blank">Mathwada Facebook</a> </b>page managed by Dinesh and his best friend and
partner in crime Naveen Marasinghe. This is bound to capture your attention. </div>
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<br /></div>
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In the meantime I also found this. A short film named <a href="https://vimeo.com/91780834" target="_blank"><b>Cleopatra’s shoe</b></a>,
inspired by a story by the great G.B Senanayake, who also happens to be my
favourite Sinhala writer.</div>
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Did I mention that they are also the creators of Mathawada? <b><a href="http://mathawaada.com/" target="_blank">Checkout the site here.</a> </b></div>
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<br /></div>
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The book feels intensely personal. It is like the publishing
of the book is the final let go of the pain and suffering and I could almost
hear the writer shedding a sigh of relief, finally letting it go. I recognize
this feeling. I can relate to it. It is akin to amassing all the gifts, the
poems, the notes, written by and to a past love, making a huge heap of it in
your front yard, ceremoniously setting it all on fire and watching the flames
consume it all, a little bit of pain disintegrating, freeing you as the fire
disintegrates the paper bit by bit. It feels deeply satiating. </div>
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And another thing that really stood out at the event and
further proved that he really is an individual dedicated to the arts – the book
was not for sale. It was distributed among whoever attended and those who
wished could have made a donation, any amount they liked at a cardboard box
placed on a side table. And what’s more, anyone who wished could <a href="http://strangerinasari.com/download/" target="_blank"><b>download the book online free of charge</b></a>! Generosity, selflessness – never before seen
characteristics in anything in this country, let alone in arts! In this and
many other things Dinesh stands a unique individual and a worthy example. </div>
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The book was backed by a series of mesmerizing photographs
by Lakmal Ranasinghe, who was entrusted with the
task of interpreting the work by DRG. I think he has done a marvelous job. The photographs
are haunting and capture the essence of the woman - the root of the protagonist’s
heartbreak. They are sensual, just like the writings themselves. <a href="http://strangerinasari.com/gallery/" target="_blank"><b>You can checkout some of those photographs here. </b></a></div>
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A little word on the venue and the staff. Held at the Café
Mocha by Barista right next to Gandara, the venue was charming with its wooden
floors and the old school glamour to it, which I thought suited the event very
well. And the staff was extremely friendly, ever ready to help and I could very
well hand over the “staff of the year” award to these lovely boys and one girl who
manned the place on that day. </div>
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Also, everything was 15% off to people who came for the
event! That was definitely the cherry on top of the cake. At least for me :D</div>
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<br /></div>
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All in all, a beautiful, tasteful event, inspiring and
refreshingly different. A wonderful booklet brimming with flavoursome things which
for me was also emotions bound in paper <a href="http://strangerinasari.com/download/" target="_blank"><b>Download the free PDF</b></a> if you wish (and
I strongly recommend that you do) and savour the loveliness. In the meantime,
do enjoy the reading below.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/154269257" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe></div>
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lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-40928749981029010652016-02-14T23:41:00.003+05:302016-02-15T09:23:21.247+05:30Bridal Diaries - Part II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I went for my very first "beauty" treatment thingy.<br />
<br />
So all the cajoling, chastising, scolding, threatening and bulling by both Mother Dearest and the lovely girl who will be dressing me for the big day (who can be pretty scary when she wants to be btw) came into fruition as I headed salon-ward the other day. "Why you being like this child? Other girls doing facials 6 months before the wedding and you just sitting there doing nothing till last minute." Mother Dearest would sing her anthem every time she so much as caught a glimpse of me around the house for the past few weeks at which I would nod and simply continue doing what I was doing anyway. And then one day the nodding was just not enough. A visit to the beautician was necessary. I was ugly and needed pretty-fying.<br />
<br />
I must say that all this is very unfamiliar to me. Anyone who knows me would never be able to picture me at a salon getting my 'Beauty on' as easily as they can picture me in a WWE Championship match, possibly playing The Undertaker. The only instances when I would visit a salon would be either to get a haircut or to pluck my amazonian eyebrows which would breed monkeys and lions if I had left them to their own devices. So just lying there with a thick layer of fruit-scented muck on my face, anticipating the next muck session and the one after that was unfamiliar territory.<br />
<br />
I have never realized that "just lying there" was such a difficult thing!<br />
<br />
You are just lying there minding your own ooey-gooey business all over your face when all these thoughts go buzzing through your head. This little annoying voice whines in your ear like a tiny mosquito reminding you of all the things that you have to do but you haven't still done. And just lying there you start thinking what a waste of time it all is and how you could have read a book, made a cake, written your next post for your <a href="http://www.peckishme.com/" target="_blank"><b>food blog</b></a>, written your novel, organized your closet and etc in that time. And then when you finally doze off, you dream that you are being kidnapped by aliens (I suspect that the flapping of the foil paper covering my face had something to do with it. Also, I think I now know how a baked chicken feels), and is jolted awake when the foil is yanked off you face, convinced they yanked the skin off of your body to make a skin suit for themselves to roam the earth undetected. And then your face is swallowed up by a thick, wet sponge mopping your face all over again.<br />
<br />
Various smells pass your nose - rose, papaya, tamarind, cloves, unidentified floral smells and the works while various textures touch your face - some thick and grainy and others smooth and satiny. Will you be wrapped up like a mummy in bandages like when she poked you with that funny little twig with a light at its end that makes a whirring sound and smells like electricity? Will she give one of those divine eye massages again (I actually liked that part of the treatment). Who is washing my face? Oh wait, that's my beautician, no it's her assistant. Ow, the eye! Watch the friggin' eye! And DON'T poke your finger in my nose, dammit! *achchoo!* God her hands are so rough, or is it just the scrub that is scraping my face? She probably had tempered dhal for lunch today, I smell tempered dhal and she probably touched a baby after that, because that's definitely Eau de Cologne. Is it her sister's baby? Or is it hers? But she doesn't have a baby. Does she have a secret baby? But babies are annoying, I'd rather have a dog. Yes, dogs are fun. I miss Frankie. Is he sleeping? Did he chew up my rosemary plants again? Have to bathe him over the weekend. The weekend! I MUST go book shopping! Oh but I can't cz I have like a gazillion things to do. Gazillion - is that even a word? How many zeros are there to gazillion? If zeros have no value, why do they add all those zeros at the end and claim that those are big amounts? Eeeeek, that's slimy, what the HELL is that? Snail juice? Why do I have snail juice on my face? Why am I doing this? Oh yeah, I'm getting married and they think I'm ugly. So what if I'm ugly? Good if I'm ugly, then I won't have to get married. Do I really have to get married? Why am I getting married? I don't wanna get married! I DON'T!!! Waaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!<br />
<br />
....and then it goes on.<br />
<br />
And that's not even the worst of it. <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Imagine an itchy nose, one of those super itchy ones that you are convinced that you will die if you don't scratch it, but you can't scratch it because your nose is buried under a good inch or two of thick, unnamed goo. Even if your face is muck-free, tough luck, because your arms are bound down in several layers of thick, sweet-smelling muck too!<br />
<br />
No. Not fun at all.<br />
<br />
Anyways, many hours later (which seemed like centuries) I emerged from under the layers looking not much different than I first did before all that washing, scrubbing and mucking. I don't see what all the fuss was about at all.<br />
<br />
I was informed that I will have to "lie in" for two more sessions before the wedding. Sigh.<br />
<br />
I just wish I could get spa treatments instead. Spas are fun, I like spas. There's always something happening, no lying around doing basically nothing at spas.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Hair was discussed at great lengths too. Suddenly my biggest problem in life was the parting of hair. Will it be a side parting, or will it be centre? Should there be a parting at all? If it is a side parting, should it be a left parting or a right? Because the right brings out my eyes while the left brings out my mouth. And I am required to choose between my eyes and my mouth - or something of the sort.<br />
<br />
It gets very confusing.<br />
<br />
Eye shadows, lipsticks, there are so many shades of pink that E.L James would have been ashamed! (what? only 50? Come on!). And then comes the colour of face powder - will it be 'Natural Bouquet', 'Warm Silk', 'Honey Bronze' or 'Winter Harvest'? Honestly, had I not been aware, I would have assumed that we were selecting dessert. Or something as exciting as dessert (but could anything else really be as exciting as dessert?) <br />
<br />
Also, is the word "wedding" some kind of a mystical, magical word that upon speaking it, the speaker's appearance changes into something akin to a free-dispensing ATM machine? As soon as someone hears the word "wedding", the cost of pretty much everything just skyrockets to about five times more. You want a bouquet of nice, simple flowers? Rs 56,000. You want a handkerchief? That's Rs 10,000/-. You want a hairpin? Oh but that's like Rs 8,000/-! <br />
<br />
Apart from me, it seems like everybody else is getting married because they are too rich and have nothing to do with all that dough. At least that seems to be what the commercial world out there seems to think. I for one have better use for what I earn. And there's no way in hell that I would waste my parents' hard earned cash for making these opportunists any richer either.<br />
<br />
All things aside, getting married is serious business. Sure, you get the big, fat, white (well, champagne coloured) wedding and it's all fun, pretty dresses and games, but what then? For a girl, she might as well be born again rather than getting married. You leave your home in which you grew up all your life, your parents on whom you knew you could always fall back on, your carefree life - your lazy Sunday mornings in front of the TV watching TLC or Desperate Housewives with a cup of tea in your hand and the cheerful sunlight filtering through the lace curtains, your late night movie binges and avalanches of midnight snacks, your random shopping trips to the second hand bookstores whenever you felt like it, your solitary evenings on the balcony reminiscing about life and all things in general, your ability to get lost in a book days at end blocking out the entire world, coming home to a house fragrant with the smell of spices and a hearty home cooked meal, your mother waiting by the gate to welcome you home the bougainvilleas cascading down on her making a pretty picture, messing around with your dog who is less of an animal and more of a sibling and has grown himself into your heart muscle itself, your mother's cooking, your father's footsteps coming up the courtyard as he comes home from work with Frankie boy jumping excitedly at his heel, your parents watching the 8'O clock news together marveling at things happening in the country, your afternoon tea sessions with the parents in the living room, on the veranda or in the garden watching the antics of the Franky boy, your in depth discussions with father about the future and all things philosophical, gossip sessions and cooking tips from mom and cooking together with her in the kitchen albeit often with contrasting views, spontaneous shopping trips, exhibition explorations and lunches out with mom whenever we felt like it. Hell, I'l even miss her nagging! - there's so much I am forced to leave behind which I am not ready to leave behind yet.<br />
<br />
Can I not get married right now? I'd rather be my parents' little girl forever.<br />
<br />
For a man, life remains pretty much the same after marriage whereas for a girl, everything changes. Responsibilities, not only of herself and the husband but of her in-laws as well, the extra strain of coping with the expectations of the new family - this is especially hard for a private person such as myself. A woman is required to give up her surname - the one she wore with pride all these years, to give up her home - where she felt safe and protected and then to give up her lifestyle and hobbies, at least make compromises on them - all of this is basically a woman's identity. And having to give up all these things - I think it is very unfair.<br />
<br />
But oh my darling, life is hardly fair.<br />
<br />
It does help that I have the most kindest, the most gentlest and the most generous in-laws who accept me as their own and a man I know who will go to the other end of earth for me (if I nagged a little and he didn't have to drive that is). It also helps that he is my best friend and partner in crime and has been so for the past 7-8 years and I think he loves me enough to facilitate me being myself, doing the things that I love the most.<br />
<br />
And it's a small miracle in itself that my vacillating, easily-bored self has stuck it out with him for 7 years going. This must be fate!<br />
<br />
What does NOT help is that we (as myself and my fiance are both doing our MBAs together) have an assignment due just a few days after the wedding and a thesis coming up immediately after that. This coupled alongside the most stressful period at work - probably the most stressful that work will ever get and it all falls right when I decide to get married.<br />
<br />
Sigh. Why God, why?<br />
<br />
Anyways,<br />
<br />
I constantly remind myself, that this too I shall get through as I always have. And this time, I have backing in the form of a somewhat annoying other half (who to my dismay, is throwing more bitch-fits than I do these days). And I am confident (not quite, but getting there) that we will totally rock it, responsibilities n all!<br />
<br /></div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-14714527635824600072016-01-28T18:32:00.000+05:302016-02-05T18:08:47.723+05:30Soar(ing) over the Kingdoms of the Earth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, he’s gone and done it again.<br />
<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you’ve been following my rants, you’ve probably come across my rants (for they are rants and not "reviews" as I have trouble taking myself all too seriously to call myself a "reviewer") on <a href="http://lady-grouchalot.blogspot.com/2015/01/cadence-of-your-tears-freedoms-chains.html" target="_blank">Cadence of Your Tears</a> and
then <a href="http://lady-grouchalot.blogspot.com/2015/11/there-was-launch-and-then-theres-this.html" target="_blank">The Ascetic Paradox</a>. And if you have come across those rants you’re
probably familiar with <a href="https://www.facebook.com/sanjeevniles/?fref=ts" target="_blank">Sanjeev Niles</a> already - the talented fellow who could
have made us open-mouthed lot topple over with one flick of his fingernail after hearing his
music for the very first time. If you haven’t read the rants (how dare you
mortals ignore the noble and wise words of The Lady!) I suggest you go and read them now for he is an artist quite worth
knowing. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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In this era of the Great Plastic Plague, finding something that
moves you is practically impossible. Everything has been turned to plastic - people, friendships, relationships, the thing that we gloat and label as love, nothing really moves us anymore and we in turn, have built up an internal resistance, a sort of an outer shell if you may, to protect ourselves from the dry and harsh wastelands that life has now become. And unfortunately, the more delicate forms
of art like music and literature too have been thus touched by this great
moldering hand of demise and decay. But once in a while comes a song, an exquisite creature on luminous butterfly wings, a sheer
melodious genius that literally sweeps you off your feet and sends you hurtling
forward through the cosmos into a world of sublime delights.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Kingdoms of the Earth for me was one of those rare ones that
left me hazy eyed for a good few minutes after the first listening. And after
listening to it a good 15 times or so, (and with the song still playing in the
background) I start typing this post. I wanted to share it with the world, to
shout out “look here, have a long, lingering listen to this sparkling little
gem spreading its wings in your cupped palms like a magical winged creature
ready for its first flight!” but had to restrain myself when I was told to hold
my horses as then it had not yet been officially released. So hold my horses, I
did. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>“In another age, in another time,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Our souls be lost,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>And then you will be mine……”</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The song ends on a philosophical note which had my heart in knots.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Kingdoms of The Earth is a song of longing, a song of pain,
but with a sweet lacing of hope that pierces through its quaint romantic heart
which bleeds out poetry in whoever that hears it. It starts off softly, with the
distant wailing of the violin punctured by weighty piano notes. Sanjeev’s deep
baritone gently touches this harmony at first. And then it plunges and soars,
plunges and soars taking your heart along with it into the faraway lands
soar(ing) over the Kingdoms of the Earth. The deep, resonating drums beat like
a heartbeat in the varied background – earthy and necessary, strangely echoing
the profound thump of Sanjeev’s voice at the places where it ceases its smooth
gliding across the notes, leaving space for thoughts to stream in. It’s an
invocation uttered in the deep and cavernous vaults of the earth, it is a
beacon of hope, like moonlight filtering through the foliage, it is an
imploration that even the most hard-hearted cannot ignore. Simply said, it is
capable of moving mountains and oceans with the emotions it summons forth. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It is layered, it is accentuated at places that leaves your
heart in your throat at times, it is hauntingly beautiful, so lusciously
resounding that it cedes delicious echoes resonating within your whole being. It
is the bitter-sweet pain of all the lost loves in the world rolled together
with that undying hope of unrequited love – toothsome, yet sad. It pulls you
apart at the same time draws you within yourself and leaves you warm and cozy,
a fragile bird nesting within its homely stead. Like Cadence, it has those
unmistakable gothic nuances that I have now begun to understand as Sanjeev’s own
watermark. And what a wonderful watermark it is! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kingdoms of the Earth has an unmistakable medieval feel to
it with a touch of Celtic magic and you cannot help but have image reels of
mist robed, hazy highlands, high stone castles and medieval knights on valiant
steeds running nonstop through your head. This especially speaks to my heart, and
not surprisingly so, given my long standing infatuation with the Celts and
their healing music as well as my romance with all things lovely and medieval.
I mean, who doesn’t like dungeons and dragons and swords and bloody battles! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And the most fascinating thing about the song? That it does
not even need lyrics! You see, when it sings of fading candlelight you have
already seen the flickering flames in your head. When it sings of breath on
neck you almost feel the slight breeze touching your skin in the darkness, even
before the actual words had registered in your mind. The music has
already set the mood, the tone and the situation and this to me is pure (and
very rare) genius - combining meaning with sound, creating the exact mood,
catering to the exact words. Simply marvelous. </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Needless to say Sanjeev has an exceptional voice - powerful,
evocative, earthy and piercing, all at the same time. Therefore at certain
places I have felt that the potential of these behemothic lungs has not been applied
full charge in this particular song. Personally I would have liked a bit of
punch towards the end, for the music to die a natural death and the voice to
take charge and create a memorable vocal imprint upon the mind. I would have
liked the vocal chords to have opened at full blast and wail out the pain, the
anger in one powerful, excruciating stroke. On the other hand I can argue it
the other way as well. A song about lost love requires softness, a sort of
nostalgia, a yearning for the past. It must need that delicate ending and
indeed it ends in a longing note. If that was Sanjeev’s take on the song, he
has accomplished it rather marvelously. And further goes on to display the
individual’s versatility of voice in giving wings to a rather heavyweight
baritone. Therefore in this I remain conflicted. </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This song did not come as a surprise. Having proven his
prowess with <a href="http://lady-grouchalot.blogspot.com/2015/01/cadence-of-your-tears-freedoms-chains.html" target="_blank">Cadence</a>, I should say that we expected nothing less. And true to
his nature, he did not disappoint at the least. And being a part of a larger
collection (an album) this song has only made us impatient to hear the rest. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And as for Sanjeev and all this very apparent talent that
has just been lying around undetected, undemonstrated, I have just one single
sentiment I would like to express. As my partner very spontaneously exclaimed
after the first hearing of the song, I shall now echo his exact words. Sanjeev,
“WHERE the HELL have you been hiding men?”
</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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Listen, watch, enjoy. I present you "The Kingdoms of the Earth"<br />
<br />
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lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-79240647877427653352016-01-21T19:22:00.003+05:302016-01-21T19:24:27.575+05:30Bridal Diaries - Chapter 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
And so the wedding frenzy begins. Sigh.<br />
<br />
Me in all my naivety had thought that a wedding is all about putting on a dress, looking pretty and just showing up at the event. But apparently, that doesn't even scratch the surface.<br />
<br />
So there I sat in the waiting room of the designated seamstress the other day, amongst other bridezillas obsessing over the lace hems, hooks and button holes, thinking to myself how the hell I ended up here. You see, being a bride involves frequent visits to the aforementioned seamstress for wise words on sari falls, necklines and arm lengths and also advise on how a bride must always cover herself from top to bottom for the fear of *gasp* exposing some skin to one's relations. At this point, you somehow accept that the designated seamstress pretty much dictates your life - from the day that you have the misfortune of meeting her to the day before the wedding (for that is when the final fit on will be), she will be your mentor, your guide and basically, your not-so-fairy-like Fairy God Mother.<br />
<br />
My seamstress (in fact her resemblance to the evil Fairy God Mother from Shrek is rather uncanny) has opinions on pretty much everything. Standing only up to my waist this bespectacled creature lances forth her wisdom pearls from everything between your diet, your choice of partner in life to your collarbones (she has made it a point that she does not like the angle at which they stick out), she jumps up and down measuring my shoulders to my elbow to my ankle to my hip, also making it a point to make her displeasure at my height quite plain. It kills you that you can't even be the usual wisecrack that you are and will have to take it all with the gracious obedient "bridal smile" (a particularly smug faraway half-smile that I have come to know from being around other brides-to-be) because she will probably sew the jacket too tight and quite literally put you in a straight jacket right throughout the function (or curse your first child to become an Ogre) if you are not nice.<br />
<br />
For a girl who vowed to herself that she would die before succumbing to all that flowery puffy frilly-ness, I have come a long way.<br />
<br />
I have come to accept the inevitable - that your wedding is really your parents wedding and that any pleas for a simple one (where the savings could be donated to moi for a world exploration expedition!) would only fall on deaf ears. I have had my say in the hotel choice, I have had my choice in my clothing and I have had my say in not having any bridesmaids/bestmen. And now I shut up and wait.<br />
<br />
From an emotional point of view, understandable really. It is touching how much they enjoy all the planning and you kind of sit down and accept it all because the knowledge of having to leave them behind (even if you don't leave them behind, the time you spent as their little girl will never be the same again) just hurts too much. I am the only girl in the family and they want to throw a big bash for their little girl. For all that they have done for me and still do, (and also considering the fact that I haven't been a very obedient child) the least that I can do is give them a big, tight hug and obey. Just this once.<br />
<br />
The ordeals I've been put through for the past couple of weeks - where do I begin.To make it short, the measurements have been given, the sari chosen, a simple (and inexpensive) one that I could even wear for a special occasion afterwards (practically walked into a shop, pointed to a saree, walked out), the cards printed (sweaty trips to Pettah rummaging through dusty piles of wedding cards belonging to couples of centuries past and trying to decide on what seemed the least cheesy, deciding between C's and J's and the perfect fonts and font colours). To cut a long story short, let's just say that I know the difference between goldenrod, Cal Poly Pomona Gold, Sunglow and Golden Poppy now.<br />
<br />
Walked into a salon the other day to get my usual eyebrow trimming session and it just so happened to slip my mother's mouth that I am getting married. The beautician, (who by the way we DIDN'T consult) had so much of advice to give and I wondered why she hadn't found her spot in an early morning housewives' beauty program yet. Looking at me up and down I can almost hear the machines in her head whirring and I could feel her eyes boring through my clothes scrutinizing every inch of my body (I now know how an insect feels under a microscope). After a long, seemingly never ending and arduous 5 minutes or so (which seemed like an eternity) she finally speaks in her grown up voice. Apparently, you need to be spick and span on the day of the wedding so as not to repel the groom. You need to be completely hairless (and surprise, surprise she offers waxing services) and certain areas in the body need to be completely melanin-free (well what d'ya know, she happens to offer bleaching services too!). Needless to say she isn't hired.<br />
<br />
I am thankful for the girl I have hired to dress me. A no-nonsense girl out of my own heart who shares my worldview that one does not have to be skinned alive and boiled twice in order to become a bride. She has been my go-to person for haircuts and special occasions dressing for years, so I am comfortable with her judgement to not make me put the Bride of Frankenstein to shame on the very day that I am supposed to look my best.<br />
<br />
It's a big change, it's a new life. Am I terrified? Not really. Well, a little maybe.<br />
<br />
I'm not terrified because I am going to be married to my best friend and partner in crime of 7 years. Being the introvert that I am, there was a time that I feared that I may not be able to completely open up to anyone but he makes it so easy. There are no pretensions between us - he likes me in my PJs and no make up better than when I am dressed to kill and I take him whichever way he wants to be, multicoloured shorts, ridiculous tshirts and all. We've been through a lot and tackled some tough times together so come what may, I am sure we will find a way to work our way around anything that life throws at us. It will be like living together with your best friend but only better. He will be mine to torture whenever I liked! *Thunderclap and sinister laughter ensues* <br />
<br />
What I am terrified of is the extended family. A whole host of unknown people who will suddenly become my relations by law, the compulsory small talk, the social events and the works. Not that they are bad people, they are awesome people but I am a bad person who is terrified of crowds. My small world will be invaded by battalions of well meaning friendlies and being the introvert that I am, this is worse than death itself. The touching, the hugging the kissing, the proximity - I do not like being touched and abhor any kind of physical contact with people that I am not close to who invade my personal space. It is torture of the most heinous nature. If you are an introvert you will know what I mean. (So know that if I willingly hug you, it is a great privilege and that you mean something to me.)<br />
<br />
I am also terrified of change.<br />
<br />
I am a creature of habit. I get up at a certain time, get ready, have my breakfast, come home, eat, sleep - I have my routine. Now with this impending marriage, this carefully manicured routine, my wonderfully cocooned life is going to be disrupted. A completely new residence - or two - we still haven't decided on lodging, this not being able to put down roots and to truly call it home - I am territorial and it bothers me that things are going to change. That I will have to leave my familiar and comfortable book-lined messy room behind at least for a little while. That I will no longer be my parents' little girl and that even though we may live with them from time to time, things may not be the same. I am not comfortable. In fact, I am extremely uncomfortable. I cling desperately to my familiar things. And I find myself doing that unconsciously even now.<br />
<br />
And I know nothing about sharing a room.<br />
<br />
Sharing a bathroom, sharing closet space, sharing dressing table space - all these are strange and foreign concepts to me. I've had my own room ever since I was 3 and I've been independent, more so than the average girl my age. My books, my clothes, my paraphernalia, all over the room, everything is every where, my own mess, mess that I am familiar with. When sharing, I don't think you can be messy. This is a whole new concept that I may have to get used to. It's going to be hard and there's going to be a lot of annoying things that I will have to deal with - like wet bathroom floors, soggy carpets, dirty towels on the floor, my books being tampered with and etc. And I am trying so very hard to convince myself that it is all going to be worth it.<br />
<br />
To make matters even worse, it is a very stressful period at work as well. Also, I am in the middle of an assignment, with another assignment falling smack in the middle of the wedding period. This is not helping. At all.<br />
<br />
Well, here I am on the brink of the biggest adventure of my life complaining. Shush you coward! Thou shalt face this like a girl! Better yet, like a woman! After all, they say that a teabag never knows how strong it is until it gets into hot water.<br />
<br />
Or is it a woman they mean? </div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-31369657195105762842016-01-03T21:52:00.000+05:302016-01-03T22:30:11.768+05:302015 in a nutshell<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
2015 has been life changing. Quite literally.<br />
<br />
Being a Scorpio, my life has always been one of fate. And fate has been at its very peak this year. Fateful encounters albeit troublesome leading to the enrichment and the closer bonding of other fateful relationships (although they came a little too late), a greater clarity in matters, revelations, enlightenment, it's been a roller coaster of emotions, blows of reality and moments of sheer ethereal quality. I have also (finally) gotten in touch of my inner witch - the healing, creating part of me that has always been overshadowed by other things - this period of life has been a turning point, again, quite literally.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://peckishme.com/" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">Peckishme</span></b></a> is doing really well! I've had to take some time off it due to personal reasons, but the response I am receiving is rather overwhelming. The Facebook page has boomed too and for a blog that is only about 8 months old, it's doing rather well on the ranking side of things as well. An Innocent sense of self satisfaction. Incomparable joy. This is my baby - my product of sweat, blood and many, MANY sleepless nights. Juggling a full time job, an MBA, personal obligations and my own personal creative writing ain't exactly a cake walk. <br />
<br />
Put a like to its <span style="color: red; font-weight: bold;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/peckishme/" target="_blank">facebook page</a> </span>and show some lurrrve! I post two recipes a week and occasional restaurant reviews. Come check it out. I hope you like it :) <br />
<br />
On a related subject, 2015 is also the year that I got in touch with my Green thumb. I started off with four plants - rosemary, thyme, basil and lavender just a few months back and today I am the proud cultivator of almost every herb I ever need to indulge my need for flavour, flavour, flavour! Rosemary (two varieties), lavender (hasn't flowered yet, but soon), thyme (two types), oregano, basil (3 varieties), marjoram, parsley (two types), mint (all types), Kaffir lime, you name it. I don't need to purchase the herbs I need now from the supermarket - I am self-sufficient! And the feeling it gives you - priceless. Now I have moved on from herbs (because they can now take care of themselves) to salad items (rocket, lettuce - 2 varieties, spinach, cherry tomatoes - I already have little unripe tomatoes on it!) and just today I planted seeds for beetroot, Chinese cabbage, dill and radish. I also have a packet of winged beans but mother says they need to be planted on the ground. We will find a suitable spot and then plant them. Oh this is all very exciting!<br />
<br />
Mother says I've always had the green thumb. Even when I was a child, I remember my mother getting me to plant the hard-to grow plants with my hands because she believed that I had "the touch". Mother herself being a bit on the witchy side (her amazing cooking skills, her healing touch, her way with plants, her scarily accurate intuition and this creepy ability to tell exactly what's on your mind most of the time), I can only assume that I inherited it from her. But the weirdest part is, I had never been fond of gardening - actually up to this point I loathed it! But right now, the thought of new plants, seeds, the touch of soil and new leaves sprouting just excites me like nothing ever excited me before. It is a lovely feeling, to see the fruits of your labour, to know that these are your creations and using them in your dishes, especially being the health food freak that I am, the feeling you get is indescribable. Now I am convinced that all I want to do is to stay home, grow my own food and cook with them! I suppose this is my inner healer emerging, this desire to create expanding itself, a desire for a greater bond with nature, to rejoice in things blooming and blossoming. It's a remarkable change - especially considering the fact that I considered gardening to be my least favourite thing in the world only a few months back!<br />
<br />
And for all this I need to thank my favourite soulmate who is now my fiancé. He influenced me with his interest in growing fruits (also recent interest) and dragged me about with him to plant nurseries till I finally succumbed to the call. They say that soulmates lead you to your life's true calling, whether it be kicking and screaming and I guess this, is exactly what happened here. And I am grateful. <br />
<br />
Just arrived from Chennai a week back. Having lived there for more than a year, the visit was every bit as nostalgic as it was delightful. The roads had badly corroded due to the recent floods but other than that, there is absolutely no sign that such floods had taken place at all. Things haven't changed much. But we got a peek into the real Chennai this time, something which I haven't experienced during the time we lived there - which was somewhat heartbreaking.<br />
<br />
I recall the time I lived at Chennai to be the happiest time of my life. I was fascinated by the culture, the rawness of it all, I did everything that I wanted to do, ate everything I wanted to and for once in my life, I had no obligations, no responsibilities. But I don't think back then I got a taste of the real Chennai life. Truth be told, I led a pampered and semi-charmed life there at the time - a driver drove me around to pretty much wherever I wanted to go and I had everything I ever needed at my beck and call without having to lift a finger. Yes there were the times I wandered off on my own and saw the things that I did and experienced them briefly as well, but they left only fleeting impressions and were overshadowed by the many privileges I enjoyed. Cushioned by luxury, nothing really struck me as truly tragic back then. Which was a tragedy in itself.<br />
<br />
But this time around being Christmas and everyone being out of town, (even our trusty Ramachandran and Babuji who would come running every time we visit and employ people to be everything between chauffeurs, chaperons and translators for us *sulk*), we had to manage pretty much everything by ourselves. Taxis had no air conditioning (or finding one with A/C was practically impossible) so we soon resorted to getting about by tuk, braving the dry, dusty winds in our faces. (And as a die hard tuk tuk patron here in SL, when I say the heat and the dust is bad, I mean unbearable) The class difference is at times too incredible, the plight of the poor - unbelievable. Some worse than animals, defecating where they sleep and cooking and eating on the same spot. The jolt to reality was so sudden and necessary.<br />
<br />
Yet it is many times better than Pakistan where it smells of rotting meat, blood and pure hostility everywhere you go. Utter unadulterated sexism where women are insignificant and discriminated against (I was constantly berated at school which was an "international" school for not covering my head even though I am a Buddhist), uncleanliness, racism and a blatant disregard for personal hygiene, unequivocal violence (one of my classmate's father was found chopped to pieces in a garbage pile and my father's colleague, a gentle lady was burnt to death by the husband over a dowry matter, all within the scope of a few months. Sharia "Law" was silent in all these cases), sexual harassment (I was barely 12 years old and still I was groped by various creatures who call themselves 'men' many times) and a "religion" that preaches you must slit the throats of innocent animals and wash the house with that blood in order to appease "Allah" - these are my memories of Pakistan. Suffice to say, these traumatic experiences pretty much made up my mind about the country and the "religion" in question from a very young age itself.<br />
<br />
Chennai on the other hand is a city that I love. It has a unique fragrance, a combination of sweetness (think Pure ghee Indian sweets. So yum!), saffron, sandalwood and jasmine flowers adorning the hair of the female folk. In fact, the clothes that I packed for the trip still smell of these amazing smells taking me back there. The sound of vedic mantras being chanted, ringing bells at the time of the pooja - this is to me, the picture of pleasantness. Chennai is mostly a pure vegetarian city - despite the uncleanliness in certain part of it, the whole place seems somewhat cleansed and holy. Yes, this view of the city maybe extremely contrasting with the mental picture that most people have of the place but I for one, knowing the city all too well, know that it is a city with an innocent soul, and an endearing one at that. <br />
<br />
The most remarkable thing about the city is its people and the way that they just don't judge. You can eat your dessert with rice, wear your wedding dress to the supermarket or wear a tie with shorts and I don't think anyone would bat an eyelid. They are quirky like that. And it is truly liberating - to be utterly and ridiculously without manners or etiquette, even for a limited amount of time. I think we all need that in our lives.<br />
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On other news, 2015 is also the year when I discovered the short stories I've written many years ago and rediscovered my interest in the art. It is also the year when I ditched my almost complete novel and started on a new one, one that I am convinced is my true masterpiece. It is also the year when I made a significance change in my career - the best decision I've ever made in my life I believe (which was a very VERY difficult one too) and as a result, today, I am truly content with what I do. I believe that I have found my forever home :) So all in all, 2015 had been good to me. Apart from the few dramatic episodes which seemed to make no sense at the time but ended up making a whole lot of sense, 2015 also convinced me that everything really does happen for a reason.<br />
<br />
And that the reason is always a good one :)<br />
<br />
So here's to a better 2016 (which is going to be a mighty eventful one, hint hint!) and one that will make us all realize our true potential - as human beings, as earthly creatures of creativity and of creation. It is a never-ending journey that we are on, and we are constantly discovering ourselves, just when we think we know it all. And 2015 has been a year that proved to me that there are so many things that I am yet to learn - and most of all about myself. It was the year that my ego was shed, and my eyes were opened to new things, things I believe, that will be important in the years to come. <br />
<br /></div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-70908933777776913932015-12-28T11:41:00.000+05:302015-12-28T13:01:21.525+05:30Half a ton of brassieres unloaded on to The President's front yard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On breaking news today, half a ton of "brassieres" were unloaded onto the front yard of the President's House in an order to appease HE The President who was reportedly feeling "rather left out" after the bra-throwing incident at the recently held Enrique Eclairs concert in Colombo.<br />
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This initiative was headed by the organizers of the event after HE The President has expressed his displeasure at the aforementioned incident.<br />
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The 'brassieres' were collected from the female attendees to the concert, the event organizers said, having contacted them after the concert. Although the request was to collect the 'brassieres' that they wore on the day, it was clear that the females were reluctant to part with their more expensive and fancier undergarments, a trusted source said. "Most of these items are frayed, discoloured and emits an unpleasant smell which led us to believe that the participants released their oldest and the most used undergarments to us. Some were even too big to be their own" an event organizer said.<br />
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In an attempt to add in an extra touch of affection, the organizers contributed with their own jungis that they wore on the day. "Mine was a Calvin Klein, but since I haven't done the laundry that week, it was what I was wearing throughout the whole week. I hope The HE would like it" an enthusiastic event organizer said holding up a "Kiss me, Mr President" cardboard sign cut out of a Siddhalepa jumbo box.<br />
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A few male participants volunteered with their own colourful jungis for the purpose but the event organizers had to turn them down so as not to eclipse their own crowning jungi moment with The President.<br />
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The event organizers went one step further in trying to find a female to throw a 'brassiere' at HE The President as he exited the house for his morning jog, but they were unable to find a willing candidate for the purpose, a downcast event organizer said.<br />
<br />
On other news, hundreds of stingrays had been seen fleeing the coastal lines of Sri Lanka yesterday, hiding their tails within their flaps. Baffled environmentalists report that currently, there are no stingrays within the coastal waters of the island.<br />
<br />
</div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-19283774544886466982015-11-29T14:36:00.000+05:302015-11-30T10:30:29.599+05:30Females are not your lunch time joke - dealing with sexism<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Something that has always struck me and has begun striking
me even more as of late – a woman may never be seen completely as a human
being, an intellectual creature with the vices and virtues that exist in every
human being. It would take an extraordinary human being, the kind that I haven't met yet to acknowledge a female in this manner.</div>
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Being a woman makes you invisible. Being attractive makes
you invisible. Because it is only your body they will see, who you truly are
will always remain unseen.</div>
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The unfairness of it just kills me – the incredibility that
something so atrocious can happen in polite society simply astounds me. I feel
insulted. I feel disrespected every f****** day of my life. Not just by men but
by women as well. But this is something that we as women go through in our
lives so much so that we have gotten de-sentized to it, that we just brush it
off, laugh it off as if it is merely the dust of everyday life. We are
displayed as objects before we are even acknowledged as human beings, we are
sexualized at such a tender age when our minds are still innocent.</div>
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I admit, females are attractive creatures. As a woman, I myself think that the female physique is much more alluring than the male physique. It is more aesthetic, it is mysterious in its functions and levels of pleasure and lovely in all its curves and contours and it is okay to admire it. It truly is a functional work of miraculous art. But it is not okay to sabotage that beauty. It is not okay to penalize the female for their naturally bestowed artistry. </div>
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I am not a feminist. I don’t think I have ever been one. I
like looking good and indulge in shaving, waxing, plucking my eyebrows and
whatever that is frowned upon by the “Feminists” of our generation, I want to
have a family – to create life within myself regardless of those “why should
the woman sacrifice her body shape to carry a man’s child” arguments, I admire gentleness
and good manners in both men and women alike, I adore cooking and I have my
<a href="http://peckishme.com/" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">food blog to prove that</span></b></a> and I love my bras because I know that sudden movements
fucking hurt without one. I have always believed that men and women each have
their strong points – men are better at certain things that women aren’t and
women are better at certain things that men aren’t. There is no contest, there shouldn’t
be. There is a reason why we are made that way and I respect, acknowledge and
embrace those differences. Nobody can contest with nature – no matter how hip,
modern and revolutionary you are.</div>
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People often mistake politeness and courteousness as signs
of weakness. This is the biggest mistake that one can make. </div>
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I think this is a conflict, a sort of a dilemma that any
woman with a sense of self-worth and self-awareness goes through. True that
most of the time we just numb ourselves to the sexism around us and smile
through gritted teeth simply not to create a scene – at work, in the streets,
even among your closest circles and we don’t even realize that we are doing
that. It has become a mechanism. Most women go through their lives having fully
converted to this twisted religion of submissiveness and self-debasing – a sort
of a fetish that the majority of Sri Lankan men and women seem to revel in. We
as girls are taught from a young age by our own mothers no less, that our
brothers by virtue of having been born male are the more important family
members. In such a context when even women deny each other their rightful status as equals, how can one even speak of equality and fairness?</div>
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And then there are the lot of us who do know our worth, who have been trained from a young age to make our own space in the world and are proud of our achievements. Nobody handed us anything on silver platters and as a result we have every right to stand our ground and not take any shit from anyone. But does it matter? Does any of it matter at all if all you get is disrespect and sexism from the society in return? I do wonder sometimes. </div>
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What makes men overlook your stature, your status as a human
being, as a person and simply stare at your chest or beneath the hemline as if
no other part of you exists? What makes them make crude comments and rude jokes
about the females that they encounter in life? “Can’t you take a joke?” they
ask and tell you to take it easy. I really don’t see what’s so funny when they
comment on how your dress makes them feel or what they have to say about your
body. I don’t know how easy they would take it if a woman happens to point out
that the sleazy smile on their faces makes them look like warthog bottoms. </div>
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What gives them the right? It is as if ‘women’ jokes are the
coolest jokes in town. It is as if female colleagues in a workplace are simply pornography
that they can masturbate to in their heads. What gives them so much power? Is it
the advantage of physical strength that makes them so flippant about their masculinity?
But living in a world where most menfolk simply sit in front of a television
all day forcing fast food down their throats, I must say that women will be
able to trump this in no time at all as well if they cared to stay in shape. </div>
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It is even worse when you find out that the people who you
regarded as intelligent, sensitive and frankly ‘above that’ have stooped to doing the
same. Makes you lose faith in humanity altogether. </div>
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The point I am trying to make is this. All your education,
all your intelligence and capabilities are eclipsed by the fact that you are a
woman. And God forbid if you are an attractive one! People will create the illusion
of giving you respect just to be in your good graces, but catch them when they
are a little drunk or out of their best judgment and you will catch a glance of
the ugly, desperate animal within – an insult to humanity as it were. </div>
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<br /></div>
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These are the problems that escalate, that get ugly and end up hurting people. One only takes notice of these things when someone is raped,
or worse yet – raped AND murdered. They will say ‘oh poor thing’, probably put
up some sympathetic FB post, rally around the town square demanding justice and
after a few weeks, everyone will forget. But who will rally for the everyday
sexism, who will speak for the belittling, disrespect and the insults of
everyday life? If someone has to get raped or murdered for an issue to get some
attention, then there is something so clearly wrong in this twisted murk of a
society that we live in. </div>
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<br /></div>
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As a woman, I refuse to take shit, I never have – not from
anyone. I refuse to take part in this twisted little mind f*** that is this
society. I thrive on being a woman, I think it’s a fabulous thing to be. And I hope
anyone reading this, man or woman would think twice about disrespecting anyone around them – whether it be at home, at work or on the streets. Females
are not there for entertainment purposes. They are not your lunch time jokes. My
greatest wish is to see us treated if not as equals, as persons with brain, heart
and soul. Females are not that crude anecdote you related that made everyone in your office laugh,
or components of your dick humor which makes you ‘the dude’ amongst your colleagues. Females are not your blow up dolls, not physically and neither in your mind. It is not 'fun' or 'rad' to make fun of women. It just proves one to be an ignorant and bitter failure of a being, the 'human' part being somewhat doubtful. Your attitude is the big, bright beacon of your personality, the one that tells the world 'here's who I am!'. Would you like to be naked in the public with all your ugliness exposed, you must decide. </div>
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lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-44427017329283971382015-11-11T17:58:00.000+05:302015-11-22T19:06:27.704+05:30There was the launch, and then there's this album! - Stigmata's The Ascetic Paradox<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Lady was not going to do a review - because after <a href="http://lady-grouchalot.blogspot.com/2015/10/a-launch-to-remember-stigmata-hurls.html" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">the preview</span></b></a>, a review would have been a little.....much. But then she listened to the album. She listened to it once, she listened to it twice, and then she lost the count of times she listened to it altogether. And then this rant pretty much typed itself. </div>
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The venue was buzzing and you could cut the electricity with
a knife. When we got there (a good hour early since parking is notoriously
difficult at the venue) the ticket tables were still being set up and familiar
faces were floating all around with a mixture of purpose, nervousness and
anticipation. The air was different, more different than what we have
experienced at any other gig we have been to – this was more intense, more MORE. We
knew something exciting was coming. I think everybody sensed it as well. </div>
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<br /></div>
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We were ushered up a dark hallway lined with light, just
enough to find our way, with walls adorned here and there with backlit
characters from The Ascetic Paradox (I thought this was appropriate since we
were after all, in the Halloween month). We then arrived at the exhibition
showcasing photos and various artwork inspired by the band over the 15 years. For those who had been
following the band throughout their journey, this was a heartwarming experience indeed.
Earlier band members, portraits of the trio who had kept the Stigmata brand
alive right from the start – Suresh, Tenny and Andrew (from hair growth, hair
fall, haircuts to seasonal changes in face fuzz), it was a little like going through a family album, watching the kids grow up. Unforgettable moments from
miscellaneous concerts, the craziest hair lashes, the grooviest band moments
that make you say – hey, I was there when that happened! It is a feeling of
having been there - from the first album to the fourth – and in the process,
seeing them grow from boys to men involuntarily.<br />
<br />
However, having seen a lot of the photos that has come out of the numerous gigs through the years, we expected a collection of mammoth dimensions at the venue. 15 years is a very long time and as I have commented earlier, these guys are some of the most photogenic devils that I know. We were a little surprised by the somewhat modest collection we found there. Followers, fans and photographers had been notified to send in their Stigmata moments prior to the event and it was disappointing to see that perhaps only a few may have had responded. <br />
<br />
From the exhibition to the auditorium. We passed Delish wafting delicious smells and ignored their devilish temptation and headed into the hall where we loitered for a while longer till the action really began. </div>
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The band arrived on stage with masks in place concealing
their faces. And with a hearty conch shell bellow, a thumping of traditional Sri
Lankan drums strangely and delectably reminiscent of a traditional devil exorcising ceremony, the launch began. This was significant I think because many
demons were exorcised that night. The demons of everyday mundane existence vaporized into the air conditioned interiors of the hall as the music delivered a sort of serenity and invoked blessings upon the mesmerized audience
– blessings of the heavy metal kind. Maybe I was mistaken, but the frontman
seemed nervous during the first few notes, a fleeting observance barely picked
up by the audience but somewhat noticeable to us who have never seen him
nervous throughout the past long years. This was quite endearing, because it was evident what this night meant for the members of the band. But
within the first few notes, they owned it. They blossomed out like an exotic night blooming flower, spreading their fragrance, entrapping the audience within its enchanting spell. The stage was theirs, every eye,
every ear, and every mind in the audience was theirs, each person swaying to
the rhythms that the band so generously lashed out to the night.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To capture a moment in time within one’s fist, to fully own
that moment with guitar strings, drum sticks and lung power alone and to bend
and twist the captured time as they willed and to command the love and the
attention of the biggest audience that we have seen at a Sri Lankan metal
concert, how glorious a thing it must be! This is exactly what Stigm<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>ata did that night – they ruled the night, they ruled every
mind, heart and spirit that occupied the venue, burning bright and white. If only we could
rule the world like this – with love, music and communal head banging! </div>
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Well, let’s just say it was a good concert *looks around
shiftily* </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUFc5pl8jQNj_W5YoBGlCaAuRmctum7G89oTbsNV4H_Junn9mqE4U6kwYZ354k00Bkxq2nwWOGPDKwdCgYEUOYfWW2CMKKJYGaqH3ZRa4JVZLCHBlLUGmYqAvuT_H2Yupkd9vhdDf9u2p/s1600/12143157_920997407935673_256170878284674593_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUFc5pl8jQNj_W5YoBGlCaAuRmctum7G89oTbsNV4H_Junn9mqE4U6kwYZ354k00Bkxq2nwWOGPDKwdCgYEUOYfWW2CMKKJYGaqH3ZRa4JVZLCHBlLUGmYqAvuT_H2Yupkd9vhdDf9u2p/s400/12143157_920997407935673_256170878284674593_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A gravity-defying moment</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The album in its entirety was performed that night which was a
gutsy thing to do and the best part was that we got goodies and memorabilia to
take home as well – the album to slowly and leisurely savour, a customized shot
glass, The Ascetic Paradox fridge magnet that doubles as a coaster (like hell I
would keep any dirty glasses on that gorgeous thing), customized guitar pick
each carrying a character from their mind-boggling album art, The Ascetic
Paradox poster and a customized card pack, each card beautifully elaborated
with a character from the artwork itself. <a href="http://lady-grouchalot.blogspot.com/2015/10/a-launch-to-remember-stigmata-hurls.html" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">I gushed and rambled on about the artwork on a previous post </span></b></a>so I am not going to do it here. But I must say that
the merchandise is truly marvelous. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUmlSVLWS2Ct-egrFCG0sTi5aU1L0ZhT_cRbP2nOAv9na62a7-HrbIpa4Hl9xeuweJ_sT2-ZL-vLU5_GtrwZkwQonx5gzlF1z6mLyyo8V2e2tSyWDwXhw_SX6WW17t_hgWY5FbdaGDhUgX/s1600/merchandise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUmlSVLWS2Ct-egrFCG0sTi5aU1L0ZhT_cRbP2nOAv9na62a7-HrbIpa4Hl9xeuweJ_sT2-ZL-vLU5_GtrwZkwQonx5gzlF1z6mLyyo8V2e2tSyWDwXhw_SX6WW17t_hgWY5FbdaGDhUgX/s400/merchandise.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So here is my share of the merchandise</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Since coming home with us, the album has not had a rest.
It’s hard to describe this album, within itself a paradox. There is a larger
Sri Lankaness in it than what we have experienced in any Stigmata album before,
a more earthiness firmly based on Sri Lankan soil. There are toe-tapping baila
beats (baila beats you say, in heavy metal??), groovy Middle Eastern tunes, the
ever resonating Sri Lankan drums – the insistent thump that makes any Sri
Lankan heart beat – it’s a curious mishmash of wonderful and unlikely things, and
every single note within it a discovery. It’s easy to see that the band had put
their heart, soul, flesh, blood and every fleeting ounce of energy into it
because it’s tighter than (chee, you buggers) a closed clam and more solid than
a block of concrete, so much so that it makes you shrink back a little and hiss
- what sorcery is this!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been playing this aloud in my house for over two weeks
and I haven’t had (m)any complaints yet. I even found my father tapping his
foot to a particular baila beat and my mother humming the mind-effing guitar
tune from “An idle mind is a devil’s workshop” in between pruning the hedges
with the giant pair of scissors (which was kind of worrying). However, my dog
just makes this WTF face while standing very still whenever I play the album in his vicinity. Oh well….. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The album starts off with ‘Our Beautiful Decay’. A
deceptively funky rhythm intro that encourages a few jive moves of your own, evolves into the hard hitting stuff that evolves into a 6-8 baila beat that
evolves into the hard stuff into baila and hard stuff again *pants*. Let’s face
it, the 6-8 baila beat is in the blood of every Sri Lankan anywhere in the
world and I am not surprised that it is such a huge hit amongst the crowd.
However, it is the intricate weaving of Sri Lankan drums, baila beats and heavy
metal that is truly mind boggling. This beautiful concoction is further
enhanced by a set of labyrinthine lyrics, remarkable in its intricacy, deep in
implication. Rich imagery conjures up vivid pictures - butterflies tearing
their chrysalis and flying off to the sun only to be burnt like Icarus while he
asks the audience “Are you dancing in the shadows?”. It’s mad, it’s magic, it’s
mayhem and it’s marvelously catatonic. In the end you come out of completely
cleansed that you feel free of the grit and the grime of everyday existence once again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our Beautiful Decay has been played at gigs so many times
before and I believe that it is with this song that they initiated the making of The Ascetic
Paradox (or was it “And now we shall bring them war’?). And personally ever
since the first time I heard it, I’ve been waiting for a recording of the song
because it’s unusual nature (and also Tenny’s fabulous dance moves on stage to
the piece) had intrigued and aroused my curiosity. And as I predicted, I
absolutely love it and I am not alone in this. I know,I'm psychic and I'm awesome.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The second song of course, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdfZkVSPxq0&app=desktop" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">‘An Idle Mind is the Devil’sworkshop’</span></b></a> was released prior to the TAP launch and has had remarkable reviews
and ravings since. The third track – ‘(Still)
Born again’ starts with a groovy acoustic session at the end of which the heavy
stuff are handed out in abundance and brutifully. The fourth, ‘Rush Through the Twilight Silver Slithering
Stream (oh no, you won't be pronouncing that in a hurry) is another one that struck me
with its clever and beautiful lyrics once again (I’m sorry if I’m going on
about the lyrics, but I can’t help it ok).
“Society is indiscriminate - it's live and let live - live and let's
kill” the singer is not only the minstrel but the prophet, the poet and the merciless
critique of society. This is what I find refreshing about Stigmata music – its
ability to not only serenade the ears, but also to speak to the mind. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The fifth track “Calm” is a beautiful ballad that serenades,
lulls and cajoles the senses. Here is a track that has that unmistakable
Stigmata touch upon its delicate skin, a vision for the mind, a cool, soothing
balm for the soul. It jolts you at all the right places and calms you at others
– that perfect balance of love and fist like in those perfect romances! And we
all thought that ‘Lucid’ would have no rivals!<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sixth – Axioma is the brutalicious maiden who will
continue to seduce with a gun pointed at your head. It’s heavy, it’s
ravishingly lovely and surprising in its delicateness of expression and it is
totally badass. Needless to say, we are in love with it. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXiKGQXxs1wovXuVzohEDBDt8OBSP-9DGhtwskSN_zI4SocZ9nZUpQkfRlsLgfniMeWFSqjgSHuPMxWyC3uxxIk8Sz7rx29UfHosaveSyvzoTDQztK4QsKbEnWNp66AlaZqdQEDYV7EzsY/s1600/11004573_10203684169183997_7523789840954237745_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXiKGQXxs1wovXuVzohEDBDt8OBSP-9DGhtwskSN_zI4SocZ9nZUpQkfRlsLgfniMeWFSqjgSHuPMxWyC3uxxIk8Sz7rx29UfHosaveSyvzoTDQztK4QsKbEnWNp66AlaZqdQEDYV7EzsY/s400/11004573_10203684169183997_7523789840954237745_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favourite shots of the trio singing "Let the Wolves come and lick thy wounds"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The seventh track of the album, “Let the wolves come and
lick thy wounds” (‘not your spoons, your wounds’ as Suresh would say) was one
that I had waited impatiently ever since I heard of it first. Mainly because I
was swept right off my feet by the collaboration of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/sanjeevniles/?fref=ts" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">Sanjeev Niles</span></b> </a>and Suresh de
Silva in <a href="http://lady-grouchalot.blogspot.com/2015/01/cadence-of-your-tears-freedoms-chains.html" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">‘Cadence of your tears’</span></b></a> – a dark, deep and soothing lullaby that
pierces to your core and lights you up (and it appears that I still haven’t
finished gushing about that piece), and was curious to see what this duo (plus
Chrishantha de Silva of Salvage of course) would conjure up this time. And
also because we heard the piece performed once and despite the technical
glitches in sound that day, I knew that this was going to be good. And I was
right! (again, I’m psychic and therefore, awesome).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The track starts off with a mélange of Flamenco (?) guitar
and Sri Lankan drums which gives way to an angelic chorus by the Soul Sounds choir
and the mood is set for a peaceful and calming musical repose. But no! The
chorus suddenly and abruptly gives way to the deep, dark, reverberating voices
of not one, but all three of the trio singing (rather deliciously bellowing)
the chorus of the song. The punch it delivers hits you at the top of the head
and drills down to the pit of your stomach, with irregular intervals and jarringly
unexpected twists and turns keeping you on your feet right throughout. The deep
baritone of Sanjeev is unmistakable in this while the voices of Suresh and
Chrishantha spring forth from within its depths and embrace your ears with a
power that is truly enthralling. This is a track that is ingenious in every way
and a collaboration (for we know that not all collaborations turn out gold) that
was done just about right. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The eighth and the closing opus of the album is a 13 minute
long monster that is varied, vivid and valiant in its projection. The 13
minutes in itself is like a grand epic with morsels of melody, spectacular
sweeps of guitar wizardry and tenacious punches of brutality that leaves your head spinning (in a really good way). It’s
somewhat of a magician’s hat – each time you listen to it, you discover
something new and the charmingly bizarre fact is, the same can be said about
the album itself. If ever there was a grand finale to a grand album such as The
Ascetic Paradox, this would most definitely be it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A special note on the lyrics of the album which were delivered to us in a mind-frying little booklet within the CD itself. The words
speak to that part of you that not everybody can speak to and the imagery they
evoke pulse ever so savagely – like the heart of a great mysterious beast in
tune to the rhythms they are set to. They dance around you in this frenzy that
is almost psychedelic, blurring the lines between fantasy, reality and mythology.
Each imagery leads the way to another more powerful one with brilliant play on
words, clever juxtapositions and metaphors that make you stop and think and
once put together, make your heart skip a beat. This is poetry, storytelling
and that intrinsic rhythm in language combined together in that signature
disjointed Stigmata vibe. The booklet is more of a miniature poetry collection rather
than an album booklet, handed to us with text arranged in vertigo-inspiring spirals, curves and
arcs within it. We believe that the frontman/lyricist has really outdone
himself this time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLt-6G4ac2iQc-Keo9mgHezFYZhh5teOXCHz4Ofy57_dF-DUQx67izSIPb0UoBoimeHLbyb78vOiXdWd4BOIYYHCfHj7qJMs3NKJPSBqtIsKJJJqZjO5dbzVsaW_etjhEUpmv9HZlniuhB/s1600/12088350_796845570425676_2857379407446184626_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLt-6G4ac2iQc-Keo9mgHezFYZhh5teOXCHz4Ofy57_dF-DUQx67izSIPb0UoBoimeHLbyb78vOiXdWd4BOIYYHCfHj7qJMs3NKJPSBqtIsKJJJqZjO5dbzVsaW_etjhEUpmv9HZlniuhB/s400/12088350_796845570425676_2857379407446184626_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Respect for a band that has held it together tight and awesome for 15 years</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here is an album that delivers hit after hit after hit of
pure Sri Lankan uniqueness. Here is an album that has been carefully thought
out and planned out that there are no loose ends. Here is an album that
transcends boundaries and laughs at established rules – which in itself is no
great shock for if ever there was a band that broke all possible rules and
lived, rather thrived and rejoiced to tell the tale, that would be Stigmata. Here
is an album into which the very essence of the band had been poured and here
is an album that truly portrays how much the boys have evolved over the past 15
years. And it's pretty bloody impressive. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An apt manner of celebrating 15 years of Pure Sri Lankan
originality wouldn’t you say? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It would be uncharacteristic of the foodie in me to not
compare something this good to some kind of a food so I would say that this
album to me is like <a href="http://peckishme.com/love-cake-essentially-sri-lankan/" target="_blank">Sri Lankan Love cake</a> – piquant and spicy delivering kick
after kick, sinfuliciously sweet and fragrant, absolutely flavoursome with
surprises and discoveries at each single bite, so very addictive that you can
never have enough and essentially, very much Sri Lankan. <br />
<br />
Also, I think a huge shout out should also go out to whoever had been instrumental in putting together this monumental album and the monumental launch that went with it. I do not know in detail what went on behind the curtains, but from what we have seen and what we have experienced during the launch, the amount of work and dedication that went into it is very much apparent. Everything went like a well-oiled machine - no glitches anywhere, at least nothing that we noticed and an event of such behemothic proportions does not get organized by itself. So here's to the folk behind the curtains, under the tables and beneath the stage - no more than an army of friends and followers who had gathered around the group over the years, brought together by the power of their music.<br />
<br />
This much love and this much devotion! The band may not be making millions selling their records (for now), but in our eyes, they are a very rich bunch, blessed with unfathomable treasures. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you missed out on the 17<sup>th</sup> October gig, know
that you’ve missed out on something momentous, a chance of witnessing history
in the making. BUT as it happens, the guys have got quite a few CD’s and
goodies still left, so the good news is, if you wanted to experience this
brutal beauty by yourself, you still can! Only a few premium packs containing
the album, poster, card pack, fridge magnet/coaster, guitar pick and shot glass
are left, so if you want them you better hurry up. <a href="http://stigmatasl.com/" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">Contact them on their website</span></b> </a>or on the <b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/stigmatasl/" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook group</span></a></b> to reserve your CD or merchandise – and I must now, at the danger of sounding like an advertisement say you can’t afford to miss out on these for 2 reasons - </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1) this is something
that shouldn’t be missed by anyone who appreciates not only good music but a
good piece of art in general</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2) these guys don’t produce these
goods on a mass scale so once they run out, they have run out</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
...so for those who want a slice of this pièce de résistance extraordinaire, better grab them now. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is art that is borne out of commercial necessity and
then there is art that is born out of the necessity of the soul to create
something beautiful - anyone can feel the difference. While many albums have been known
to shine momentarily with borrowed light and fade away into nothingness
eventually, The Ascetic Paradox shows the world the difference between the two
in rising above the rest and shining with its own luminosity. The Lady
recommends this sublime experience highly. Because she believes that everybody
deserves a touch of beauty, a peek into the divine every once in a while. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p> </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNo4wUAgGRwBo0Xj73rC-EUMkKDLj_p1t_Fp8L_Z_41L0WNBhnLxs2XiBXEwlUp5EohnMyHwaZva8Iyd5CAdSHlSegLoiQq2OAAH7YoeC48xvkbJ5NtlmA8eJuogO8VZa60qkfzGFh6oOA/s1600/12105831_10153756232825802_3906148095201451098_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNo4wUAgGRwBo0Xj73rC-EUMkKDLj_p1t_Fp8L_Z_41L0WNBhnLxs2XiBXEwlUp5EohnMyHwaZva8Iyd5CAdSHlSegLoiQq2OAAH7YoeC48xvkbJ5NtlmA8eJuogO8VZa60qkfzGFh6oOA/s400/12105831_10153756232825802_3906148095201451098_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and then there's the family picture </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
*Disclaimer - all pictures in this post (except the one with the merchandise) were sourced from the band's page which in turn were posted there by various individuals. The creative rights of the photos belong solely to them. </div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-20113977010260137502015-11-08T22:17:00.000+05:302015-11-09T22:11:04.429+05:30On Soulmates, Kindred Spirits and the call of the universe <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why is it that everybody seems to be talking about soulmates
these days?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the past couple of weeks, I met at least 8 people with
whom I had very insightful and rather unexpected discussions about soulmates and kindred spirits. I
have spoken with many people about this curious soulmate phenomena before but
this is the first time in my life that this kind of soulful discussions had
been carried out with such consistency. Is it karmic, is it pure coincidence or
is it just the rain? Or maybe, the universe is gesturing at me wildly to write
about it. And when the universe calls, you've gotta answer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Soulmates come in many forms - as friends, as lovers, as
family members. And contrary to popular belief, there is definitely more than
one soulmate per person (but none if you spend your life in eternal oblivion never really opening your eyes). When one hears of soulmates, one effortlessly jumps
into assuming that it is a lover. This may be due to the sheer strength of
connection that one feels between the soulmates and due to this, it is easy to
jump into a romantic involvement in a heartbeat, but it shouldn't always be the
case. I am not saying that it doesn't work out that way, in fact there is a
very high chance of soulmates working their way through a romantic relationship
than two complete strangers who have no connection with each other whatsoever.
But I also believe that the universe works hard to help you figure out what
exactly is right and if your instincts are sharp enough, you will be able to
pick up on those signals and continue upon your intended path.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How would I know? Because I have had my share of soulmates
in my life. My best friends had always been soulmates and there was a period in life where I had been friends with soulmates exclusively. And no, that was not lonely because if truth be told, one or two soulmates in your life is actually way more rewarding that a host of simply other beings surrounding you 24 hours a a day. I am currently in a relationship with a soulmate - the one the universe
wants me to spend my life with I believe and who was also once my best friend. Soulmates have a way of shaping one another –
of steering you towards your destiny whether you like it or not. My experience
of being romantically involved with a soulmate is very vibrant. An evolved
soulmate romantic relationship is characteristic of growing together, rising
above the mundane, inspiring one another and moulding one another to be the
best that they can be and I have been fortunate enough to be blessed with one. They
bring out the best in you, and this can be very confronting and even intrusive as
growth is not easy - it comes with having to deal with one’s own ego and having
to see past it. Romantic soulmate connections are intense – you feel scarred by
them sometimes and the imprints they leave, they leave for life. Happy moments
are ecstatic and when it makes you sad, you droop to the very depths. But you
can never, ever experience the deep connection that you feel, that satiates not only your your mind, your body, and your soul with anyone else. Yes, it is that special.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And when you sit down and trace your lives together, you
will see that your paths have unknowingly crossed so many times before or that
you have almost met before but as circumstances would have it, you have missed
each other many times over as well. In some cases you will also see that at
certain periods of your lives you’ve gone through the same things. You often
share the same tastes, similar characteristics and you simply click – for
example, my current partner and I bonded over a common interest in music and
once realized, we went on to discover that music wasn’t the only thing that we
had in common. And in most cases, the moment you lock eyes on each other, you
will simply feel that electric connection – that uncanny feeling of knowing
that person before, that strange familiarity, even though that is probably the
first time you’ve met each other. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No, not love at first sight! That's just cheesy. This is different. This is something deep and reverberating. It is karmic and in no way have to be romantic. It's simply, a sense of knowing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Karmic connections have a way of finding you whether or not
you are ready to receive them. As life would have it, I have had to reject a few soulmates in my life, purposely placed
barrages in between to separate and placed boundaries because frankly, it is scary how intensely, how deeply you
connect and how quickly. It's disturbing how it all tumbles on to you too soon,
too fast and way too intense than you bargained for. Also one may have to reject them when they come at the wrong time and place and if your instincts are
in place, you would hold up your hand and say, whoa there please stop and slowly back away. But no
matter how much you distance them they will always find their way back to you, or you will find a way to keep contact because your soul demands it -
some as close friends, some as estranged best friends and some, simply
semi-strangers that you haven't quite gotten to know just lurking around the
corner, waiting to be known. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you are not attuned to your own soul, sometimes you can
still be attracted to your soulmates not really knowing the reason, simply
attributing it to something superficial. This is you answering your soul’s
calling to find that missing something, but due to the un-enlightened nature of
one’s own consciousness, you confuse that call with a more superficial one and
askew that connection entirely by careless handling, therefore driving your
soulmates away. This is when the soulmates in question are immature or have not
yet properly evolved that you know instinctively that he/she is going to drag
you under too if you attach yourself to them. In which case it’s better to stay
away at a safe distance until the sooulmate finds their path – gently nudging
them in the right direction perhaps, never really losing contact, always in touch. And timing most often in these cases, is everything as wrong timing can lead to driving you further apart. But to evolve, a person must be willing
first. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then there are the Faux soulmates. On the surface, there
couldn’t be a more perfect soulmate. You have similar tastes and interests, you
even finish each other’s sentences. But in the end it just turns out that the
other person has simply been mirroring you all along. One must stay away from
them – they are toxic. This has <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>been known to happen, and
when it happens it’s good to be aware.<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Soulmate connections are rare, and when found, even in the
situation of the soulmates not really having attained the desired maturity and
the correct timing, you must not simply let go. It’s good to remember that you
are connected by something stronger than just attraction, brotherhood or
sisterhood, it’s most often destiny or the possibility of being guided to your
true calling in life. If properly put to use, soulmate connections can be very
rewarding. But who am I to preach, I myself have a lot to learn on the subject. But I have always been an intuitive person and I believe I have experienced this wonderful phenomenon more than most people must have. Yet, I don't flatter myself. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Universe! I ranted on. I hope you are happy. Now leave me
alone :P </div>
<br />
<br />
</div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-34661319078419608852015-10-06T22:11:00.003+05:302015-10-09T11:31:03.268+05:30A launch to remember - Stigmata hurls forth a Paradox<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="line-height: 21.3px;">If you are above 20 years old, heck, if you are above 16 years old, consider yourself a music enthusiast in general but haven't yet heard of the Launch of the Year, I simply must ask - dude... what blessed boulder have you been concealing yourself under?</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 21.3px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 21.3px;">Ahem....the Lady is peeved *smooths her ruffled skirts*. Anyways,</span><br />
<br />
<b style="line-height: 21.3px;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/stigmatasl/" target="_blank">Stigmata</a> </b><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">is releasing their </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1689581701275582/" style="line-height: 21.3px;" target="_blank"><b>4th album this October</b></a><span style="line-height: 21.3px;"> and we are stoked beyond words. We have gotten a taste, rather a heaped serving, of what is to come and we are greedy for more.</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
Our Beautiful Decay, An Idle Mind is the Devil’s Workshop, And Now We Shall Bring Them War and Let the Wolves Come and Lick Thy Wounds have already been performed, heard and savoured, albeit with plentiful lipsmacking and needless to say, we dig what we’ve heard. And we have great expectations of this album which has been 5 years in the making. </div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
So we’ve heard four tracks already. Some of you may have already heard the full album (we regret having missed the full album hearing on the 5th, but then again, we assure ourselves that the pleasure is really in the wait). So why in the world would we want to go for the gig anyway? </div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
Well, realistically and logically speaking,</div>
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<li style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">Because the four tracks we’ve already heard is just a part of a grander scheme – one that will bewilder and bamboozle we are sure, true Stigmata style. They’ve piqued our curiosity as to what sorcery the rest of the album holds and you wouldn’t be able to keep us away even if you stuffed tomatoes in our mouths and locked us up in a broom closet. (minds out of the gutter yo)</span></li>
<li style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">Because these guys are the masters of theatrics – no two performances are alike and you never know what to expect from a Stigmata concert. From random impromptu pieces till someone fixes their instrument, cartoon tunes from the past, broken noses to flying saucers, really, you have no idea what’s coming.</span></li>
<li style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">Because, talent! Andrew (of course Andrew without his curly locks will never be the same as Andrew with his curly locks, but that’s beside the point) with his goosebump-inducing solos, Tenny with his quirky stage moves and crazy prodigious rhythm, Tharaka, with his badass drumming (now that Tharaka is back in the fold, all is well in the sonic universe again), the Stigmata cub – Lakmal with his sedate strumming and of course His Wackiness Suresh, with his versatile and vibrant vocals hold the audience in a hypnotic trance unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. </span></li>
<li style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">Because each Stigmata performance is intensely real, raw and intimate. The energy is simply electric and for each person in the audience, the experience is acutely personal. You won’t get this from any other band.</span></li>
<li style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">Because each album that the band has produced throughout these years is intrinsically and ubiquitously unique. Each has its own signature personality. Now would this be a wizened old man, a preppy young lad, an elaborately feathered silver parakeet or half man-half lion with a pair of grand deer horns on head? Only the concert would tell. </span></li>
<li style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">Because a Stigmata piece is like a good pot of <a href="http://peckishme.com/coq-au-vin/" target="_blank"><b>Coq au Vin</b></a>. Apart from the deliciously juicy main tune, there are little bits and pieces, tiny morsels of decadence that you can nibble on, wonderfully brought together with a beautifully silky background theme that will leave you simply intoxicated in the end. No unpleasant hangovers with this one. Only thorough and beautiful addiction. </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">Because, well, eye candy! *ahem*. </span></span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">No other band has been known to be as photogenic as they are. These buggers know it and play up to it as well. Think theater, think flying hair, think micro facial expressions rivaling those of seasoned Shakespearean actors, think stage chemistry. Well, think Stigmata. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">Speaking of being photogenic, there is also going to be a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=911810132187734&set=gm.10152694136633078&type=3&theater" target="_blank">photography and artwork exhibition</a> of pictures of the band taken by miscellaneous photographers as well as other artwork inspired by Stigmata and I am guessing that there will be an interesting collection of some hardcore stuff from throughout the years. A very tempting feature for any lover of photography and modern art I must say.</span></li>
<li style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">Because since the sonic wizardry of Psalms of Conscious Martyrdom, we have waited 5 long years for the next and we sure as hell are not going to miss it. You shouldn’t either.</span></li>
<li style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">Because one day you'd want to tell your grandchildren about the time you attended the launch of the decade and establish your cool granddad/grandma status.</span></li>
<li style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">Because throughout their 15 years in music, they have always represented true Sri Lankan originality. In a world where creativity and authenticity are as rare as a maalu paan with actual maalu in it, we as Sri Lankans, are proud to have a band that has stuck to their guns right throughout, no matter what it had cost them.</span></li>
<li style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">Because a lot of thought, effort, sleepless nights, blood, sweat and booze had gone into it and these guys fucking deserve all the support they can get.</span></li>
<li style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px; text-indent: -0.25in;">Because, rumour has it that this is going to be the biggest, most badass launch that the country has ever seen. They are definitely pulling out all the stops for this one – signed posters, pamphlets, custom made shot glasses, card packs and even (brace yourself for this) fridge magnets! It’s gonna be so damn huge and you know it!</span></li>
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And the name of this killer-esque album? *Cue Drum roll* The Ascetic Paradox! *Confused mumbling ensue*</div>
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Stigmata is known for their enigmatic album names that leave one’s tongue in Gordian knots and we are glad that the album name is actually pronounceable this time. (The last one was named <a href="https://sachinip.wordpress.com/2010/07/19/stigmatas-psalms/" target="_blank"><b>Psalms of Conscious Martyrdom</b></a>, the previous being <a href="http://www.metal-archives.com/reviews/Stigmata/Silent_Chaos_Serpentine/132837/" target="_blank"><b>Silent Chaos Serpentine</b></a>). Not that we are complaining. Not being second to the band’s lyrics, they keep us guessing all the time and we like it. This is not brainless sugar candy – this is a sensationally wrapped package of thoughtful artistry for those who like to think. </div>
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Which is one of the reasons I’m in love with these guys. Being academically trained to dissect and take apart every piece of literature and art that dare cross my path so much so that I do it almost unconsciously, Stigmata plays up to it, with thought provoking creativity every step of the way. Their lyrics are sheer poetry, one of the things that drew me to them 10 years back and had kept me there throughout the years. There’s a lot below the surface than just putting together some words for the sake of rhyming which is how most ‘musicians’ get by these days. Their music is complex - every component coming together seamlessly in perfect harmony, catering to the mood that the lyrics set. There may be a deeper meaning, there may not be at times – but what it definitely brings us is its thought inducing nature and powerful imagery with its famously signature disjointed vibe (think William Faulkner, think T.S Eliot, think Virginia Woolf). And it’s interesting to see how they have maintained this quality throughout the years.</div>
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Speaking of the album, the artwork is totally gush-worthy – hand painted by this amazing artist named Madhri Samaranayake (I don’t know her personally, but then again, I don’t know Salvador Dali either but I still admire his work), as was the case with all the Stigmata artwork in the recent past, it’s simply breathtaking and I suspect, tarot inspired (?) (a separate shout out and a hefty pat on the back to the artist. You are awesome!). The artwork comprises of six different elements and each element is symbolic. I am simply going to copy-paste the Stigmata definition of the artwork below.</div>
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The Martyr: always honorable, perpetually noble, yet suffers for something greater and beyond.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoULmwhLwTVJ687kdwURghBZIJn6toAQxxNVnLxMH-D6je6cJ20d4oNvDW_dWF3yRDgOGbjjEotQji_MMYzXwPxz8-dP6EXSdlQp3034A11L2pXTZvo71z6vT0lopd26gXQIX3Ee5g8IRO/s1600/The-Martyr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoULmwhLwTVJ687kdwURghBZIJn6toAQxxNVnLxMH-D6je6cJ20d4oNvDW_dWF3yRDgOGbjjEotQji_MMYzXwPxz8-dP6EXSdlQp3034A11L2pXTZvo71z6vT0lopd26gXQIX3Ee5g8IRO/s400/The-Martyr.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The Resurrector: Re-gifting Life and Light to that which has died or reached its demise</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKPhOhTB_LuIWvFAO0GGE27n3LEKvwmuHKhc5z_tt3POVRG202BDFy69CINYU-mNIKDjtD0_RFL0YBfCnX9AzHFo_Hojrqdv8Z0YoBFXrUvLrzbx2Z0IesN_x2r2vj1OFqg2Ms8u3cLUw/s1600/The-Resurrector.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKPhOhTB_LuIWvFAO0GGE27n3LEKvwmuHKhc5z_tt3POVRG202BDFy69CINYU-mNIKDjtD0_RFL0YBfCnX9AzHFo_Hojrqdv8Z0YoBFXrUvLrzbx2Z0IesN_x2r2vj1OFqg2Ms8u3cLUw/s400/The-Resurrector.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The Consigliori: The calculating strategist that counsels with honorable intentions and pristine foresight… the voice of reason.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXcl4867LNwpRk6AKCvfYg1Gguonpk_mw-SNrGy0w7kQTp-tFgYlgfitAzj_bvZnS2duSLA0YGxJwauRDeoFP_jWWUr1Xm8d10FzDvCN1l5ZFiJqUx1mbWMQrV2CZnaaa1miepSaiqIKG2/s1600/The-Consigliori.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXcl4867LNwpRk6AKCvfYg1Gguonpk_mw-SNrGy0w7kQTp-tFgYlgfitAzj_bvZnS2duSLA0YGxJwauRDeoFP_jWWUr1Xm8d10FzDvCN1l5ZFiJqUx1mbWMQrV2CZnaaa1miepSaiqIKG2/s400/The-Consigliori.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The Torturer: The dominant predator that stalks, hunts and torments his/her prey, not without reason, not without purpose. At times for pleasure. At times for survival.</div>
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The Tortured: The prey and victim suffering at the hands of internal and external forces, tormented and broken – always spinning on eternity’s wheels. Society’s silent sufferer.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE3LEA_hIZiQp3zO86kam91LECuXJOQwvj6m-fcSktlSQBDVdizow_uxmttseqjcI6qOWGIPNoudK7fBS_ttQc7V-ySbpNYmbbejsDIvzAooGoeu3XyLIi3A9IhYrmHj74LOksMXI3j356/s1600/torturer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE3LEA_hIZiQp3zO86kam91LECuXJOQwvj6m-fcSktlSQBDVdizow_uxmttseqjcI6qOWGIPNoudK7fBS_ttQc7V-ySbpNYmbbejsDIvzAooGoeu3XyLIi3A9IhYrmHj74LOksMXI3j356/s400/torturer.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The Solitary Lamenter: The proverbial piper of reason. The sentinel of purpose. The last poet of society; the rose, the key and the door.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHE1Xrf5Vvd8VFHBIBVViQLr9BQHGSOpYasPoG9kLxT5ehw5YUb-EvqXr5anAt2JJBEYA7QQGGpho6gEKEiOo9tKd5p79tbn5XesKTtfTqLsivPZAMcfDxtsTNuSYpPt3WUiFdcWVUX-V3/s1600/lamenter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHE1Xrf5Vvd8VFHBIBVViQLr9BQHGSOpYasPoG9kLxT5ehw5YUb-EvqXr5anAt2JJBEYA7QQGGpho6gEKEiOo9tKd5p79tbn5XesKTtfTqLsivPZAMcfDxtsTNuSYpPt3WUiFdcWVUX-V3/s400/lamenter.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And it all comes down to….. *cue drum roll* THIS!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAVF72vf4LZrWRiRUtM-tuB4hn8peKAQKYbDa4vZHGO0CnisnwY6BRPuyTeAUeBNdG5zyEa3VzhTMih77FGyI1bhZQWWIRsnoaQT_0m_3_gq2Q60HNoFlC62VIDXmvnNXswaH0CbKdku7/s1600/12030548_10153705554794923_2607164055753641555_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAVF72vf4LZrWRiRUtM-tuB4hn8peKAQKYbDa4vZHGO0CnisnwY6BRPuyTeAUeBNdG5zyEa3VzhTMih77FGyI1bhZQWWIRsnoaQT_0m_3_gq2Q60HNoFlC62VIDXmvnNXswaH0CbKdku7/s400/12030548_10153705554794923_2607164055753641555_o.jpg" width="395" /></a></div>
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How cool is THAT!</div>
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<span style="line-height: 21.3px;">Trust the band to come up with something as intricate as this. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 21.3px;">While the entire concept of the album continue to intrigue and seduce everyone who has crossed its path even once, I am particularly interested in this one track "Let the wolves come and lick thy wounds" in which Stigmata collaborates with <a href="https://www.facebook.com/sanjeevniles?fref=ts&ref=br_tf" target="_blank"><b>Sanjeev Niles</b></a> and Chrisantha de Silva. Now we all know of the time when Suresh de Silva collaborated with Sanjeev Niles and Raveen Ratnam of <b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/paragonsp" target="_blank">Paragon Productions</a> </b>(who is also interestingly, mixing and mastering The Ascetic Paradox) to create the magical masterpiece <b><a href="http://lady-grouchalot.blogspot.com/2015/01/cadence-of-your-tears-freedoms-chains.html" target="_blank">Cadence of Your Tears</a>. </b>And therefore we know that when these three get together, sparks really do fly like a dinosaur crashing onto a transformer during a massive thunderstorm. There are some great things in the horizon and we are very much intrigued. </span></div>
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So the point being, don’t miss the event. Need more convincing? Munch on this <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQPbFmWlIxY" target="_blank"><b>awesome event trailer</b></a> for some inspiration.</div>
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<b style="background-color: white;">When, where, how, what, eh?</b></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">Date – 17</span><sup style="line-height: 17.75px;">th</sup><span style="line-height: 21.3px;"> October 2015</span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">Time – 7.30 pm onwards</span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">Venue – British College Auditorium</span></li>
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Check out the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1689581701275582/" target="_blank"><b>official event page </b></a>for more information, exhilaration and titillation. </div>
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They are not stopping there. Stigmata is also taking Sri Lankan flavour to New Zealand this October immediately after the local gig and they are launching the album in Auckland and Wellington as well. So if you are in New Zealand and curious to check them out, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=931449553581592&set=pcb.10152682246903078&type=3&theater" target="_blank"><b>you totally can and you totally should</b></a>!</div>
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Oh and they have a brand-spanking new website as well. Yes, they've been very busy boys this year which only goes to show how serious they really are about their craft, another thing we absolutely respect about this band - their indefatigable perseverance. <a href="http://stigmatasl.com/" style="font-weight: bold;" target="_blank">Check out their site right here</a><b> </b>and get ready to gush, gape and simply go gaga! <br />
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On a side note, in an age when anyone and everyone who could strum a few notes on a string call themselves 'musicians' (who can't sing for toffee btw), hire publicists, journalists, bloggers and the like to present an inflated, rather a cosmetically reconstructed image of themselves out into the world, this unassuming band triggering totally spontaneous gush-posts, commendations and rave reviews from random people such as myself alone should tell you something. Although not loved by the mass populace (<span style="line-height: 21.3px;">Well, Fifty Shades of Crap sold out by millions, didn't it? </span><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">)</span><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">, the very genuine affection of their close circle of steadily growing loyal followers (theirs is an audience who knows the lyrics of their songs by heart and who would sing along with the band at concerts. This is something you don't see every day) will always be theirs because of this reason alone. </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21.3px;">So don’t miss it, come hell or high water, you must simply clad yourself in fireproof clothing, build yourself a raft and paddle your way across to the British School (find paddling for dummies guide </span><a href="http://www.crateinc.com/blog/2013/10/paddling-guides-for-dummies-how-to-paddle-a-river-raft-infographic/" style="line-height: 21.3px;" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a><span style="line-height: 21.3px;"> ) and it would totally be worth it.</span></div>
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And if you see me there (I’m actually bit taller than I am in the picture and won't be carrying the walking stick) wave like crazy.</div>
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Till then, here’s something to gorge your ears on. An Idle Mind is the Devil’s Workshop, a mind-marinating, thought-braising, then deep-frying track off The Ascetic Paradox.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px; text-align: left;">Come for the gig! We’ve got more of this! And, cookies </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px; text-align: left;">J</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px; text-align: left;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px; text-align: left;">Ok so maybe not cookies. But maybe hot dogs and cupcakes and stuff from Delish :) </span></div>
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lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-16833477232284530402015-10-04T12:15:00.002+05:302015-10-04T13:41:41.055+05:30A late book fair post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The book fair this time was a rather squidgy affair. The usual rainy season culprits of our paradise isle - water, mud, floating Kottu-mee cups were very much there with pointed elbows, ample derriers, hefty bosoms and smelly armpits (I am of the opinion that deodorant must be made mandatory by law) that are occasionally shoved in your face (without your consent of course) with stray umbrella spokes jutting out in life-threatening angles - it was a potentially fatal experience. Knowing full well the dangers of this perilous pilgrimage, I nevertheless set out quite resolute, umbrella bared, hair tied up, booted-up for weather and wearing my carefully mastered and manicured 'I will bite your balls off' look, I set out for the wilderness with a fluttering of heart. </div>
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And I survived! Fingers numb, shoulders aching, but heart soaring! 39 books for less than 10K and I am left dumbfounded!<br />
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The book fair trip for me is like climbing Sri Pada - you know it's going to be hard, you know it's going to be an uphill battle all the way and you know it can be fatal, but you do it anyway over and over again, sometimes even more than twice each year because you know that the view at the top is completely worth it. I however, much to my heartache, could only visit once this time. Usually I go the day right after the opening, taking a day off from work, but alas, having recently changed livelihoods, I can no longer afford to do that. So I had to console myself by only visiting it once - on a weekend too - the reason that even after so many days my shoulders are still in shock that I put them through what I put them through that day and my calf muscles feel like they are made of stone - if stones can hurt as much.<br />
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Gaah! Now I know what stretching myself to the limits really mean *winces as lifting arm*<br />
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Needless to say it was a sensorial extravaganza. Sweat, unwashed hair, damp clothes, (why can't people smell nice? I like people who smell nice) trampled grass, mud, hot dogs, dog excrement, perfume - it was simply too much for my over-sensitive nose. It gave up half way and I was glad - for once.<br />
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The only thing good about the rain is that it seems to wash away the pervy folk from such venues as well. I received next to no unnecessary attention this time (probably because I was looking very dangerous wielding two very dangerous looking knapsacks on either shoulder, possibly containing machine guns and god knows what else). Of course there were the usual stare games and one or two even opened their mouths to comment but one look square into their eyes made them swallow whatever they were going to say- as is the case most of the time with these gallant gentlemen with so many complements, comments and opinions about the opposite sex. If you look like you will put up a fight, these spineless mongrels will often give up.<br />
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Oh but the rain was but a little inconvenience to the teeny bopper Romeos. Little boys young enough to be my nephews coat tailing and I almost asked - yes, child what do you want. While I am flattered that they may be thinking that I'm closer to their age than I actually am (or maybe they have that older woman syndrome that every boy that age seems to be suffering from), it's very amusing when it ceases to be annoying. Really children, you must have a tighter reign on those hormones of yours.<br />
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On the plus side though, it seems that the book prices had gone down considerably this year! I covered the whole deal with less than 10K (that is about 1/3 of what I would usually spend at the event) and bagged quite a lot of gems this time! Sarasavi had a great collection with whopping 20% and 30% discounts and I finally managed to bag a complete works of Edgar Allan Poe and a complete illustrated Hans Christian Anderson for just 1200/- something each! I quite liked the Godage stall as well with their large amount of Sinhala classics and poetry. (managed to bag another GB Senanayake, woohoo!) Vijita Yapa lacked variety but from what they had they allowed 20% discounts. Makeen was filled from top to bottom with these new age candy floss vampire chronicles and attracted a teenage crowd that liked to block the aisles oh-so-casually chatting with each other. And despite braving the teenage giggling battalions, I failed to find anything of value there. Dean the Bookman didn't have anything for me this year either but he assured me that he will bring his most cherished valuables to the Good Market to which I agreed. I did find this other gem of a second hand bookshop there (of which I forget the name) where I found a few beautiful specimen priced at Rs 150/- each. How cool is that!<br />
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Again as in my earlier book fair posts <a href="http://lady-grouchalot.blogspot.com/2013_09_01_archive.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://lady-grouchalot.blogspot.com/2014/09/my-annual-book-fair-post.html" target="_blank">here</a>, I must simply stress on the importance of a higher priced, redeemable entrance ticket that will control the unwanted crowd and for god's sake, introduction of shopping carts! While I appreciate the annual workout, I have no intention of spending the rest of the week as if I've been in a WWE championship match with the likes of Yokozuna, Big Show and the McGuire twins. The book fair is most of us bookholics' excuse to really play fast and loose and be all promiscuous with these sexy paged, nice smelling things and we want to do it in the most comfortable way possible. While we would be most skimpily dressed to brave the weather, stopping every two steps with one hand on hip, panting very audibly, sweating bullets and swearing at the next person who steps on our toes while balancing several weigh-a-ton bags on either arm is hardly the most attractive picture. Sigh.<br />
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Despite everything, I am looking forward to the next year's book fair already. My bookcases are overflowing and what with this year's books still sitting orphaned on my writing table for the want of a home, might I suggest a separate stall and discounts for bookcases and shelves as well at the book fair? The likes of us who are convicted bibliophiles would appreciate that, thank you very much.<br />
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Ah the many challenged of a bibliophile. If only I could find a livelihood where I would be paid to just sit at home and read what I liked! <br />
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lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-14088895137732871042015-07-23T21:54:00.002+05:302015-07-24T19:30:21.354+05:30Decisions, life & randoms<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sitting here, with a big bowl of chocolate ice cream with music revving up in the background, writing this post without a thought or any definitive plans for tomorrow. Life is good :)<br />
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I got a room full of books, unlimited time (well, unlimited until next week) and a head full of food ideas! Couldn't be happier!<br />
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Well the <a href="http://peckishme.com/" target="_blank">food blog</a> takes most of my time anyway. Check it out at <a href="http://peckishme.com/">http://peckishme.com/</a> (This is an unpaid commercial brought to you by peckishme.com :P) Making food, remaking them till I get them absolutely perfect, taking pictures, editing them, writing the posts - it's happy time. My dream job would be for someone to pay me for making food and writing about it. I can then dream up of the craziest combinations to cook up all day everyday. Which is what I do anyway, so why not have someone to pay for it while I'm at it. Meh.<br />
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I also discovered that no matter how many onions I chop, I will still be dribbling tears off my chin like a baby every single time, even in another ten years. I have known some pretty intense loves in my life but nothing and no one has ever made me cry like onions have. Just a whiff is enough. My mother says she has never seen anyone so sensitive to onions as I am. Onions, my darling dearest - we will never be together. We were never meant to be. Sniffle.<br />
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I took a big decision just recently, a decision that affects my whole lifestyle, I hope, in a good way. It was a difficult decision, albeit a necessary one. I am still wondering if I did make the right choice. My father very casually waves away my concerns 'well if you don't like it, you can still leave. You always find something else'. I have got a very cool dad.<br />
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I was recently asked to describe myself. It's a little frustrating when even I don't understand what I am and what I want half the time.<br />
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Well I am an Isabelle Allende sort of girl with an Edgar Allan Poe core. I have an inbred taste for the good things in life and I indulge, unashamedly in them. But I am not reckless - in fact, far from it. I think with my brain, a territory my heart is forbidden to enter. I recognize and have trained myself to keep the two apart - emotions and intellect - from a very young age - the reason I have not made too many bad decisions in life. Everything has to be logical, everything has to make sense.<br />
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Which makes me appear a little cold at times, but no - I'm just a little shy, always have been. Or what happens most of the time is, I just am not in the mood for conversation unless the other person makes an effort. I despise small talk anyway - I am hopeless at it and I hate awkward silences. But tap into a vein of rich conversation and you will find me all sparkling eyes.<br />
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Well, look at me going on about myself! Have I turned into one of those tiresome narcissists I wonder - me, me, me and oh, ME! But come to think of it, blogging is one sort of narcissism I suppose. Anyways,<br />
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I was talking to an acquaintance recently and suddenly he says to me, you remind me of a person I know. I ask who. He says Hannibal Lecter. Still not sure if that was meant as an insult or a compliment. Oh well.<br />
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I was getting all worked up about how people were responding to the lady who walked away with a policeman's helmet after being pulled over (famously referred to as the BMW lady which I think is pathetic), I typed out a post on it in a huff and a puff and decided that it was a little too rash. Now I don't have a diplomatic bone in my body and I do not apologize for it but why stoop to the level of the ignoramuses who are making fools of themselves in the public with their sexist and disgusting remarks I thought. For this reason, I decided that I shall postpone that post to a more convenient time.<br />
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I loath those who do not respect fellow human beings. Those who call themselves men who have no respect for the gender that gave birth to them - those who see females purely as conquests and nothing more. I loath those who call themselves women who look at men the same way they would look at a bank or an atm machine, to whom a man is nothing but purchasing power (seriously, have some effing dignity). When did we become so pathetic? At what point did we give up our humanity? It scares me.<br />
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Keeping all that aside, I need to figure out what I want the most. What am I passionate about? What do I want in life? That's easy - good food, good literature, respect as a human being and happiness. It's all very simple really. And that's exactly what I'm working on at the moment.<br />
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So let me just concentrate on that at the moment. Take one day at a time - that is my strategy from now on. It's a good strategy.<br />
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I made Gratin Dauphinois for dinner today. Coupled with my mother's special recipe cajun crusted grilled chicken, it was absolutely decadent. Still very full and dazed with the richness of it all. Shall dance it off. Ah bliss! </div>
lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-89121649553969859062015-07-05T22:39:00.000+05:302015-07-05T22:58:02.012+05:30Sunday evening revelations<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sunday evening vicious circle of revelations -</div>
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I haven't read a single book or watched a single movie in
the past few weeks because I am afraid to start a book for the fear of not
being able to put it down because if I don't put it down I wouldn't have been
able to complete anything that I had to do. </div>
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And the worst of them all - Why have all these things struck
me now? Because I haven't even been able to THINK for the past few weeks!<br />
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Wow, rambly much?</div>
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The point being, I don't remember the last time I sat down for tea with my family - a habit, rather a ritual of sorts that we have always cherished as a family. I don't remember the last time that I had a relaxed chat with my other half, enjoyed a lazy and leisurely lunch or a dinner together, taking the time to truly enjoy the better things in life and each other. I don't remember the last time I had time to be with myself, to really think about life, to be alone with my thoughts. </div>
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Just realized that my life hasn't really been mine for the past couple of weeks. </div>
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I've been struck down by this terrible flu for the past couple of weeks but I've been dragging my aching body everywhere despite the warning bells, ignoring its pleas to slow down. As a result, I am still suffering. The tragedy is, despite the near-death experience (10kgs lost in 2 weeks, coughing up blood, dizzy spells and etc) I haven't been able to rest a single day. Gets screamed at by doctor - "I can give you all the medicine in the world, but if you don't rest, none of it is going to help!". I cringe and nod. Mea culpa. </div>
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Different people have different priorities and mine are family,happiness and health in no particular order. All other things in life - money, status, etc - well they just facilitate my priorities.</div>
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Which is why I've decided to change my life. Unlike most people I've met in life so far, I do not believe in staying where I am unhappy, constantly complaining, constantly grumbling, growing bitter and resentful in the process just because it is good for my financial disposition/career/etc etc (fill in the blanks). I am a peace loving person. If I love my workplace, I would do whatever is necessary to contribute towards the brand - not clench my teeth and invest all my strength into fighting my way into creating a stronghold against the forces and personal vendettas that make my existence in the workplace hard. It is an unnecessary waste of time and energy - energy that I could use to contribute towards the brand. I do not waste my time and energy on petty trifles.<br />
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I want to be happy, I want to enjoy what I do, I want to feel appreciated and as a policy in life, no matter what area of life it is - I do not stay where I am not appreciated. The illness has either driven me mad or opened my eyes (I will find that out soon enough), but I have decided to take a decision. It has been a really tough decision but I suppose it is a necessary one. How the universe has lined things up for me kinda sorta tells me that I've kinda sorta taken the right decision; albeit a rather difficult one. Well, I believe in being at the right place at the right time. Being at the right place at the wrong time does not do anyone any good. Timing is everything. Maybe I will come back once the timing is right. And maybe the time will never be right. Ah we will just have to wait and see now, won't we.</div>
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Sleepy. And god knows I need my sleep. I shall continue the ramble tomorrow.<br />
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lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-34016674876309824192015-05-19T21:14:00.001+05:302015-05-19T21:33:01.870+05:30Queen for a Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">My mother took out her Kandyan bridal jewelry yesterday. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">I have had no interest in weddings or of being a bride, ever in my life. In my childhood, while every girl dreamed of their fairy tale wedding and playing happy families with their Prince Charming husband, I trained myself in self defense and dreamed of ridding the world of injustice, that was, when I wasn't nose-deep in a book in some corner. I had attended hundreds of weddings with hundreds of Kandyan brides but never had I taken even a second glance at their attire. And up to this point, I had regarded all the going-ons around me with something next to indifference, it was just something that I had to do. But yesterday, everything changed. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">My mother opened up the sizeable wooden trunk that contained these precious jewels as I regarded the delicate tissue that enveloped them with the weary disinterest of a cat being nudged out of its nap. But as my mother gently unwrapped those little delicate bundles and laid each piece out carefully before me, my interest grew, albeit a little reluctantly. As I let my fingers run over their cool surfaces, their elaborateness, their magnificent details, their sheer majesty struck me perhaps, for the very first time. As I took each piece and turned them over in my hand, the sheer craftsmanship of it really took my breath away. For a while I was speechless.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">My mother gathered my unruly hair in one hand tied it away from my face as I stared at the delicate beauty spread out before me, still very much breathless. She took each piece of jewelry and placed them lovingly and delicately on me - all seven necklaces; the swan necklace, the dragon necklace, the red swan, the pendants, the agate necklace and the pethi (flower petal) necklace, </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">the elaborate and heavy headdress, the exquisite hand bracelet with rings, the assortment of bangles, and bracelets, the sun and the moon and the marvelously designed waist adornment (hawadiya), each piece handcrafted with painstaking care. With each piece of this regalia - for these were the jewelry of the Sinhala royalty, with each piece of these adornments a symbol of a different kind, I felt myself transformed. The majesty, the grandeur of it all. I truly felt like part of something very special, almost sacred, so surreal. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">I get to be, Queen for a Day.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">To be a Kandyan bride is a marvelous thing. Besides, which bride in the world gets to wear the sun and the moon in her hair and a dragon at her throat as part of her traditional attire on her wedding day? (Ok, maybe except for </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Daenerys Targaryen</span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">). </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">I don't think any other bride in the world, except perhaps the Indian bride, gets to feel like this on their wedding day. The bride starts dressing at an auspicious time, the placing of the headdress by the bride's mother, performed with much ceremony at an auspicious time as well. I think for the very first time in my life I felt what it is like being a bride. So majestically splendid, depicting strength and steadfastness yet everything so delicate and feminine. My wrists, my hands, so magnificently elaborate as I've never seen them before. As I turned away from the mirror, still very much breathless from the resplendence of it all, I saw tears glistening in my mother's eyes. A moment of torrential tumbling emotions, deeper than the deepest seas. An untouchable moment, a moment that you wouldn't comprehend even if you had devoured all the books in the world and learned from the most learned men on earth. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">It was a moment that belonged to humanity and humanity alone. But no male shall ever know it. It was a moment that belonged to mothers and daughters alone. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.2999992370605px;">For the first time in my life, I actually wanted to be a bride. To overlook my trivial inconveniences of restricting attire, long rituals and be a part of a greater, much grander thing. Tradition. Heritage. Roots. A sense of belonging to something ancient and blindingly glorious. For the first time in my life, I actually knew what all the fuss was about. For the first time ever, I was excited to be a bride. And you know what the best part is? The best part is that I get to do it all beside the man that I have chosen to share my life with - my partner in crime, my soul mate, my biggest critique and biggest fan. I get to do it with my best friend.</span><br />
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lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3082745601845314335.post-31203919746192198692015-05-15T23:55:00.001+05:302015-05-17T08:27:12.433+05:30Random ranting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My brain.....is numb. It's had a trying hectic week and it's going to have an even more hectic weekend, so I'm gonna just let it ramble on today. It needs to rant. It is overworked. I can almost see the fumes rising up, up and above, over the skull.<br />
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It's sometimes a curse to be a perfectionist. People take advantage of your inability to say no and eventually, you wear yourself out. Not good. <br />
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And why does Candy Crush become so addictive when you have an assignment at hand?<br />
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I need tea, lots and lots of tea. Milk tea. With some cinnamon, cardamom and a pinch of chili preferably. Oh I want to drown in it.<br />
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I also need a foot massage. Stress has gone to the legs. That and high heels. I wear heels because it is absolutely impossible to find a nice pair of shoes that do not have sky scraper heels. Yes, I have succumbed to the enemy, the enemy who wants women of the nation on several inches high platforms all the friggin' time.<br />
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I officially hate shoe sellers.<br />
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Yogurt is amazing. It's amazingly good to the body. I believe it is very healing.<br />
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I have been obsessed with this idea for white chocolate brownies the whole week. I have not been able to try it out though, not just yet. I planned to bake tonight, but now, I just can't be bothered. Sometime tomorrow maybe. Stress always makes me want to bake chocolaty stuff.<br />
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When I am sad I bake breads. Kneading dough is therapeutic. I like getting my hands dirty.<br />
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But tomorrow is yet another hectic day. So many things to do, so little time!<br />
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Have you ever seen the way how ladies at weddings open their mouths so very wide just get in a small bite of food just so they don't ruin their lipstick? I find this very funny. Well, they could just eat all they want and apply the lipstick again. I'm sure they must be carrying their entire makeup box inside their purses, unlike the less socially trained us. <br />
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Standards of beauty in this country are anyways very amusing. Rosy lips, fair skin, stick thin figure, straight hair - oh how boring. Funny thing is how the women folk try to achieve these things artificially. Bleaching our skin AND our hair, starving ourselves to death and applying all kinds of muck on our faces to appear just a little bit fairer. I think nature made us beautifully diverse. I think it is in this diversity that we are all so uniquely beautiful. If we were meant to look the same, nature would have created us the same. Like clones. I am proud of my imperfections. I'm chaotic, my hair is always a mess and I don't have perfect skin, but I cherish what makes me different. It makes me happy.<br />
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I remember something that someone once said to me. I was quite down and I said to him "I am a mess". "Oh yes you are a mess, you are utter chaos. But you are a beautiful mess and a fascinating chaos." he said and it instantly made me feel better. I like that idea, being a beautiful mess. A mess is spontaneous, a mess unearths certain surprising elements from time to time. I'd rather be a chaotic mess than be neat and very boring. <br />
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My ideal job would be where I would be paid to just eat stuff and maybe write about it. Or try out new recipes and write about them and I get paid enough that I can afford the ingredients for more new recipe ideas. I am a foodie and I might as well just be a "professional foodie" if ever there was such a thing. I have my own food blog anyway, so might as well get paid for my hobby. The best part is that I can even eat my job!<br />
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Having worked in several corporate environments and still working in one, certain things still amuse me a lot. I learn how immature people can be, worse than children themselves. I am amused to see how it can even become like High School - the "Cool Kids" looking down their noses at others, advising their peers not to "associate" themselves with the others because that would tarnish their "reputation". What these "Cool Kids" don't know is that the level headed ones are laughing their heads off at their retardedness. It really is entertaining.<br />
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It's all in the upbringing methinks. You have "Class" when you can freely greet everyone from a director to the person who takes out your trash with the same warmth and friendliness, when you can treat everyone with humanity and kindness. "Class" does not come with a newly developed accent or your salary scale, it comes with your upbringing, your heart, it's in your nature. Pity that most people don't realize this.<br />
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Another thing I've realized is that, education too, makes a world of difference.<br />
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I like grounded people, level headed ones. I like honest people who aren't afraid to be who they are. I am by birth, allergic to bullshit. And over the years, I have discovered that those who try to cultivate a persona donning accents, attitudes and whatnot are actually really lost souls who have no identity for themselves. How empty their lives must feel, how dreadful. They must indeed, be pitied.<br />
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Moving on, it's almost 12 and I need to start working on my assignment. I plan to get some work done so that I can have some peace and quiet later on. Good night peeps, assignment period is officially on!<br />
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lady grouch-a-lothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686440465132819129noreply@blogger.com0